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THE 

FOUNDATIONS   OF  BELIEF 

BEING 

NOTES    INTRODUCTORY    TO   THE 
STUDY    OF    THEOLOGY 


J- 


THE 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  BELIEF 


BEING 


NOTES  INTRODUCTORY   TO    THE 
STUDY  OF   THEOLOGY 


RIGHT   HON.  ARTHUR  JAMES   BALFOUR 

AUTHOR  OF   "a   DEFENCE  OF   PHILOSOPHIC   DOUBT,"   ETC. 


NEW    YORK 

LONGMANS,    GREEN,    AND    CO. 

AND  LONDON 

1895 

All  rights   reserved 


Copyright,  1894,  by 
LONGMANS,  GREEN,  AND  CO. 


First  Edition,  February,  1895 
Reprinted  March,  April,  and  May,  1895 


TROW   OrRECTORV 

PRINTING  AND  ROOKBINDINQ  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK 


NOTE 

Part  IL,  Chapter  II.,  of  the  following  Essay  ap- 
peared in  1893  in  the  October  number  of  'Mind.' 
Part  I.,  Chapter  I.,  was  delivered  as  a  Lecture  to 
the  Ethical  Society  of  Cambridge  in  the  spring  of 
1893,  and  subsequently  appeared  in  the  July  number 
of  the  '  International  Journal  of  Ethics  '  in  the  pres- 
ent year.  Though  published  separately,  both  these 
chapters  were  originally  written  for  the  present  vol- 
ume. The  references  to  '  Philosophic  Doubt'  which 
occur  from  time  to  time  in  the  Notes,  especially  at 
the  beginning  of  Part  II.,  are  to  the  only  edition  of 
that  book  which  has  as  yet  been  published.  It  is 
now  out  of  print,  and  copies  are  not  easy  to  procure  ; 
but  if  I  have  time  to  prepare  a  new  edition,  care  will 
be  taken  to  prevent  any  confusion  which  might  arise 
from  a  different  niunbering  of  the  chapters. 

I  desire  to  acknowledge  the  kindness  of  those 
who  have  read  through  the  proof-sheets  of  these 
Notes  and  made  suggestions  upon  them.  This 
somewhat  ungrateful  labour  was  undertaken  by  my 
friends,  the  Rev.  E.  S.  Talbot,  Professor  Andrew 
Seth,  the   Rev.  James   I^obertson,  and   last,  but  very 


-VI  NOTE 

far  from  least,  my  brother,  Mr.  G.  W.  Balfour,  M.P., 
and  my  brother-in-law,  Professor  Henry  Sidgwick. 
None  of  these  gentlemen  are,  of  course,  in  any  way 
responsible  for  the  views  herein  advocated,  with 
which  some  ot  them,  indeed,  by  no  means  agree.  I 
am  the  more  beholden  to  them  for  the  assistance 
they  have  been  good  enough  to  render  me. 

A.  J.  B. 

Whittingehame,  September  1894. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Preliminary .        .        i 


PART    I 

SOME    CONSEQUENCES    OF    BELIEF 

CHAl'TER 

I.     Naturalism  and  Ethics ii 

II.    Naturalism  and  ^Esthetic 33 

III.  Naturalism  and  Reason 67 

IV.  Summary  and  Conclusion  of  Part  I     .        .    .  77 


PART   II 

some  reasons  for  belief 
I.     The  Philosophic  Basis  of  Naturalism      .        .      89 

II.       IliEALISM  ;     after    SOME    RECENT    ENGLISH    WRIT- 
INGS      137 

ill.       PHILOSOPHY    AND    RATIONALISM         .  .  .  •       163 

I\'.     Rationalist  Orthodoxy 182 


viii  CONTENTS 

PART   III 

SOME    CAUSES    OF    BELIEF 

CHAPTER 

I.    Causes  of  Experience i93 

II.    Authority  and  Reason 202 


PAGE 


PART  IV 

suggestions  towards  a  provisional  philosophy 

I.    The  Groundwork 241 

II.    Beliefs  and  P^ormulas 259 

III.  Beliefs,  Formulas,  and  Realities.        .        .    .  271 

IV.  'Ultimate  Scientific  Ideas'        ....  288 
V.    Science  and  Theology 298 

VI.    Suggestions  towards  a  Provisional  Unifica- 
tion         33° 


PRELIMINARY 

As  its  title  imports,  the  following  Essay  is  intended 
to  serve  as  an  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Theol- 
ogy. The  word  '  Introduction,'  however,  is  ambig- 
uous ;  and  in  order  that  the  reader  may  be  as  little 
disappointed  as  possible  with  the  contents  of  the 
book,  the  sense  in  which  I  here  use  it  must  be  first 
explained.  Sometimes,  by  an  Introduction  to  a  sub- 
ject is  meant  a  brief  survey  of  its  leading  principles 
— a  first  initiation,  as  it  were,  into  its  methods  and 
results.  For  such  a  task,  however,  in  the  case  of 
Theolog}^  I  have  no  qualifications.  With  the  growth 
of  knowledge  Theology  has  enlarged  its  borders 
until  it  has  included  subjects  about  which  even  the 
most  accomplished  theologian  of  past  ages  did  not 
greatly  concern  himself.  To  the  Patristic,  Dog- 
matic, and  Controversial  learning  which  has  always 
been  required,  the  theologian  of  to-day  must  add 
knowledge  at  first  hand  of  the  complex  historical, 
antiquarian,  and  critical  problems  presented  by  the 
Old  and  New  Testaments,  and  of  the  vast  and  daily 
increasing  literature  which  has  grown  up  around 
them.  He  must  have  a  sufficient  acquaintance  with 
the  comparative  history  of  religions  ;  and  in  addi- 
tion to  all  this,  he  must  be  competent  to  deal  with 


2  PRELIMINARY 

those  scientific  and  philosophical  questions  which 
have  a  more  profound  and  permanent  bearing  on 
Theology  even  than  the  results  of  critical  and  his- 
torical scholarship. 

Whether  any  single  individual  is  fully  compe- 
tent either  to  acquire  or  successfully  to  manipulate 
so  formidable  an  apparatus  of  learning,  I  do  not 
know.  But  in  any  case  I  am  very  far  indeed  from 
being  even  among  that  not  inconsiderable  number 
who  are  qualified  to  put  the  reader  in  the  way  of 
profitably  cultivating  some  portion  of  this  vast  and 
always  increasing  field  of  research.  The  following 
pages,  therefore,  scarcely  claim  to  deal  with  the  sub- 
stance of  Theology  at  all.  They  are  in  the  narrow- 
est sense  of  the  word  an  'introduction '  to  it.  They 
deal  for  the  most  part  with  preliminaries;  and  it  is 
only  towards  the  end  of  the  volume,  where  the  Intro- 
duction begins  insensibly  to  merge  into  that  which  it 
is  designed  to  introduce,  that  purely  theological  doc- 
trines are  mentioned,  except  by  way  of  illustration. 

Although  what  follows  might  thus  be  fitly  de- 
scribed as  '  Considerations  preliminary  to  a  study  of 
Theology,'  I  do  not  think  the  subjects  dealt  with 
are  less  important  on  that  account.  For,  in  truth, 
the  decisive  battles  of  Theology  are  fought  beyond 
its  frontiers.  It  is  not  over  purely  religious  contro- 
versies that  the  cause  of  Religion  is  lost  or  won. 
The  judgments  we  shall  form  upon  its  special  prob- 
lems are  commonly  settled  for  us  by  our  general 
mode  of  looking  at  the  Universe ;  and  this  again,  in 


PRELIMINARY  3 

SO  far  as  it  is  determined  by  arguments  at  all,  is 
determined  by  arguments  of  so  wide  a  scope  that 
they  can  seldom  be  claimed  as  more  nearly  con- 
cerned with  Theology  than  with  the  philosophy  of 
Science  or  of  Ethics, 

My  object,  then,  is  to  recommend  a  particular 
way  of  looking  at  the  World  -  problems,  which, 
whether  we  like  it  or  not,  we  are  compelled  to  face. 
I  wish,  if  I  can,  to  lead  the  reader  up  to  a  point  of 
view  whence  the  small  fragments  of  the  Infinite 
Whole,  of  which  we  are  able  to  obtain  a  glimpse, 
may  appear  to  us  in  their  true  relative  proportions. 
This  is,  therefore,  no  work  of  '  Apologetics '  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  that  word.  Theological  doctrines 
are  not  taken  up  in  turn  and  defended  from  current 
objections;  nor  is  there  any  endeavour  here  made 
specifically  to  solve  the  '  doubts '  or  allay  the  *  diffi- 
culties '  which  in  this,  as  in  every  other,  age  perplex 
the  minds  of  a  certain  number  of  religious  persons. 
Yet,  as  I  think  that  perhaps  the  greater  number  of 
these  doubts  and  difficulties  would  never  even  pre- 
sent themselves  in  that  character  were  it  not  for  a 
certain  superficiality  and  one-sidedness  in  our  habit- 
ual manner  of  ctjnsidering  the  wider  problems  of 
belief,  I  cannot  help  entertaining  the  hope  that  by 
what  is  here  said  the  work  of  the  Apologist  proper 
may  indirectly  be  furtliered. 

It  is  a  natural,  if  not  an  absolutely  necessary 
consequence  of  this  plan,  that  the  subjects  alluded 
to  in  the  following  pages  are,  as  a  rule,  more  secular 


4  PRELIMINARY 

than  the  title  of  the  book  might  perhaps  at  first 
susfo-est,  and  also  that  the  treatment  of  some  of 
them  has  been  brief  even  to  meagreness.  If  the 
reader  is  tempted  to  complain  of  the  extreme  con- 
ciseness with  which  some  topics  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance are  touched  on,  and  the  apparent  irrele- 
vance with  which  others  have  been  introduced,  I 
hope  he  will  reserve  his  judgment  until  he  has  read 
to  the  end,  should  his  patience  hold  out  so  long.  If 
he  then  thinks  that  the  '  particular  way  of  looking 
at  the  World-problems  '  which  this  book  is  intended 
to  recommend  is  not  rendered  clearer  by  any  por- 
tion of  what  has  been  written,  I  shall  be  open  to  his 
criticism  ;  but  not  otherwise.  What  I  have  tried  to 
do  is  not  to  write  a  monograph,  or  a  series  of  mono- 
graphs, upon  Theology,  but  to  delineate,  and,  if 
possible,  to  recommend,  a  certain  attitude  of  mind ; 
and  1  hope  that  in  carrying  out  this  less  ambitious 
scheme  I  have  put  in  few  touches  that  were  super- 
fluous and  left  out  none  that  were  necessary. 

If  it  be  asked, '  For  whom  is  this  book  intended?' 
I  answer,  that  it  is  intended  for  the  general  body  of 
readers  interested  in  such  subjects  rather  than  for 
the  specialist  in  Philosophy.  I  do  not,  of  course, 
mean  that  I  have  either  desired  or  been  able  to 
avoid  questions  which  in  essence  are  strictly  philo- 
sophical. Such  an  attempt  would  have  been  wholly 
absurd.  But  no  knowledge  either  of  the  history  or 
the  technicalities  of  Philosophy  is  assumed  in  the 
reader,  nor  do  I   believe  that  there  is  any  train  of 


PRELIMINARY  5 

thought  here  suggested  which,  if  he  thinks  it  worth 
his  while,  he  will  have  the  least  difficulty  in  follow- 
ing. He  may,  and  very  likely  will,  find  objection 
both  to  the  substance  of  my  arguments  and  their 
form.  But  1  shall  be  disappointed  if,  in  addition  to 
their  other  deficiencies,  he  finds  them  unintelligible 
or  even  obscure.^ 

There  is  one  more  point  to  be  explained  before 
these  prefatory  remarks  are  brought  to  a  conclusion. 
In  order  that  the  views  here  advocated  may  be  seen 
in  the  highest  relief,  it  is  convenient  to  exhibit  them 
against  the  background  of  some  other  and  contrast- 
ed system  of  thought.  What  system  shall  that  be  ? 
In  Germany  the  philosophies  of  Kant  and  his  suc- 
cessors may  be  (I  know  not  whether  they  are) 
matters  of  such  common  knowledge  that  they  fit- 
tingly supply  a  standard  of  reference,  by  the  aid  of 
which  the  relative  positions  of  other  and  more  or 
less  differing  systems  may  be  conveniently  deter- 
mined. As  to  whether  this  state  of  things,  if  it 
anywhere  exists,  is  desirable  or  not,  I  offer  no  opinion. 
But  I  am  very  sure  that  it  does  not  at  present  exist 
in  any  English-speaking  community,  and  probably 
never  will,  until  the  ideas  of  these  speculative  giants 
are  throughout  rethought  by  Englishmen,  and 
reproduced  in  a  shape  which  ordinary  Englishmen 
will  consent  to  assimilate.  Until  this  occurs  Tran- 
scendental Idealism  must  continue  to  be  what  it  is 

'  These  observations  must  not  be  taken  as  applying  to  Part  II., 
Chapter  II.,  which  the  general  reader  is  recommended  to  omit. 


6  PRELIMINARY 

now — the  intellectual  possession  of  a  small  minority 
of  philosophical  specialists.  Philosophy  cannot, 
under  existing  conditions,  become,  like  Science,  ab- 
solutely international.  There  is  in  matters  specu- 
lative, as  in  matters  poetical,  a  certain  amount  of 
natural  protection  for  the  home -producer,  which 
commentators  and  translators  seem  unable  alto- 
gether to  overcome. 

Though,  therefore,  I  have  devoted  a  chapter  to 
the  consideration  of  Transcendental  Idealism  as  rep- 
resented in  some  recent  English  writings,  it  is  not 
with  overt  or  tacit  reference  to  that  system  that  I 
have  arranged  the  material  of  the  following  Essay. 
I  have,  on  the  contrary,  selected  a  system  with  which 
I  am  in  much  less  sympathy,  but  which  under  many 
names  numbers  a  formidable  following,  and  is  in 
reality  the  only  system  which  ultimately  profits  by 
any  defeats  which  Theology  may  sustain,  or  which 
may  be  counted  on  to  flood  the  spaces  from  which 
the  tide  of  Religion  has  receded.  Agnosticism, 
Positivism,  Empiricism,  have  all  been  used  more  or 
less  correctly  to  describe  this  scheme  of  thought ; 
though  in  the  following  pages,  for  reasons  with 
which  it  is  not  necessary  to  trouble  the  reader,  the 
term  which  I  shall  commonly  employ  is  Naturalism. 
But  whatever  the  name  selected,  the  thing  itself  is 
sufficiently  easy  to  describe.  For  its  leading  doctrines 
are  that  we  may  know  *  phenomena  '  ^  and  the  laws 

'  I  feel  that  explanation,  and  perhaps  apology,  is  due  for  this  use 
of  the  word  '  phenomena.'     In  its  proper  sense  the  term  implies,  I 


PRELIMINARY  7 

by  which  they  are  connected,  but  nothing  more. 
'  More '  there  may  or  may  not  be ;  but  if  it  exists 
we  can  never  apprehend  it :  and  whatever  the 
World  may  be  '  in  its  reaHty  '  (supposing  such  an 
expression  to  be  otherwise  than  meaningless),  the 
World  for  us,  the  World  with  which  alone  we  are 
concerned,  or  of  which  alone  we  can  have  any 
cognisance,  is  that  World  which  is  revealed  to  us 
through  perception,  and  which  is  the  subject-matter 
of  the  Natural  Sciences.  Here,  and  here  only,  are 
we  on  firm  ground.  Here,  and  here  only,  can  we 
discover  anything  which  deserves  to  be  described  as 
Knowledge.  Here,  and  here  only,  may  we  profit- 
suppose,  that  which  appears,  as  distinguished  from  something,  pre- 
samably  more  real,  which  does  not  appear.  I  neither  use  it  as  carry- 
ing this  metaphysical  implication,  nor  do  I  restrict  it  to  things  which 
appear,  or  even  to  things  which  ft>«A/ appear  to  beings  endowed  with 
senses  like  ours.  The  ether,  for  instance,  though  it  is  impossible  that 
we  should  ever  know  it  except  by  its  effects,  I  should  call  a  phenom- 
enon. The  coagulation  of  nebular  meteors  into  suns  and  planets  I 
should  call  a  phenomenon,  though  nobody  may  have  existed  to  whom 
it  could  appear.  Roughly  speaking,  things  and  events,  the  general 
subject-matter  of  Natural  Science,  is  what  I  endeavour  to  indicate  by 
a  term  for  which,  as  thus  used,  there  is,  unfortunately,  no  substitute, 
however  little  the  meaning  which  I  give  to  it  can  be  etymologically 
justified. 

While  I  am  on  the  subject  of  definitions,  it  may  be  as  well  to  say 
that,  generally  speaking,  I  distinguish  between  Philosophy  and  Meta- 
physics. To  Philosophy  I  give  an  epi.s/e)noloq;ieal  significance.  I 
regard  it  as  the  systematic  exposition  of  our  grounds  of  knowledge. 
Thus,  the  philosophy  of  Religion  or  the  philosophy  of  Science  would 
mean  the  theoretic  justification  of  our  theological  or  scientific  beliefs. 
By  Metaphysics,  on  the  other  hand,  I  usually  mean  the  knowledge 
that  we  have,  or  suppose  ourselves  to  have,  respecting  realities  which 
are  not  phenomenal,  e.j^'^.  God,  and  the  Soul. 


8  PRELIMINARY 

ably  exercise  our    reason    or    gather    the    fruits  of 
Wisdom. 

Such,  in  rough  outline,  is  Naturalism.  My  first 
task  will  be  the  preparatory  one  of  examining  certain 
of  its  consequences  in  various  departments  of  hu- 
man thought  and  emotion ;  and  to  this  in  the  next 
four  chapters  I  proceed  to  devote  myself. 


PART   I 

SOME    CONSEQUENCES   OF    BELIEF 


CHAPTER  I 

NATURALISM   AND    ETHICS 


The  two  subjects  on  which  the  professors  of  every 
creed,  theological  and  anti-theological,  seem  least 
anxious  to  differ,  are  the  general  substance  of  the 
Moral  Law,  and  the  character  of  the  sentiments 
with  which  it  should  be  regarded.  That  it  is 
worthy  of  all  reverence ;  that  it  demands  our 
ungrudging  submission  ;  and  that  we  owe  it  not 
merely  obedience,  but  love  —  these  are  common- 
places which  the  preachers  of  all  schools  vie  with 
each  other  in  proclaiming.  And  they  are  certainly 
right.  Morality  is  more  than  a  bare  code  of  laws, 
than  a  catalogue  raisonn^  of  things  to  be  done  or 
left  undone.  Were  it  otherwise,  we  must  change 
something  more  important  than  the  mere  customa- 
ry language  of  exhortation.  The  old  ideals  of  the 
world  would  have  to  be  uprooted,  and  no  new  ones 
could  spring  up  and  flourish  in  their  stead  ;  the  very 
soil  on  which  they  grew  would  be  sterilised,  and  the 
phrases  in  which  all  that  has  hitherto  been  regard- 
ed as  best  and  noblest  in  human  life  has  been  ex- 
pressed, nay,  the  words  '  best '  and  '  noblest '  them- 


12  NATURALISM   AND   ETHICS 

selves,  would  become  as  foolish  and  unmeaning  as 
the  incantation  of  a  forgotten  superstition. 

This  unanimity,  familiar  though  it  be,  is  surely 
very  remarkable.  And  it  is  the  more  remarkable 
because  the  unanimity  prevails  only  as  to  con- 
clusions, and  is  accompanied  by  the  widest  diver- 
gence of  opinion  with  regard  to  the  premises  on 
which  these  conclusions  are  supposed  to  be  founded. 
Nothing  but  habit  could  blind  us  to  the  strangeness 
of  the  fact  that  the  man  who  believes  that  morality 
is  based  on  a  priori  principles,  and  the  man  who 
believes  it  to  be  based  on  the  commands  of  God, 
the  transcendentalist,  the  theologian,  the  mystic, 
and  the  evolutionist,  should  be  pretty  well  at 
one  both  as  to  what  morality  teaches,  and  as  to 
the  sentiments  with  which  its  teaching  should  be 
regarded. 

It  is  not  my  business  in  this  place  to  examine 
the  Philosophy  of  Morals,  or  to  find  an  answer  to 
the  charge  which  this  suspicious  harmony  of  opinion 
among  various  schools  of  moralists  appears  to 
suggest,  namely,  that  in  their  speculations  they  have 
taken  current  morality  for  granted,  and  have  squared 
their  proofs  to  their  conclusions,  and  not  their  con- 
clusions to  their  proofs.  I  desire  now  rather  to 
direct  the  reader's  attention  to  certain  questions 
relating  to  the  origin  of  ethical  systems,  not  to  their 
justification  ;  to  the  natural  history  of  morals,  not  to 
its  philosophy  ;  to  the  place  which  the  moral  law 
occupies  in  the  general  chain  of  causes  and  effects, 


NATURALISM   AND   ETHICS  1 3 

not  to  the  nature  of  its  claim  on  the  unquestioning 
obedience  of  mankind.  1  am  aware,  of  course,  that 
many  persons  have  been,  and  are,  of  opinion  that 
these  two  sets  of  questions  are  not  merely  related, 
but  identical  ;  that  the  validity  of  a  command 
depends  only  on  the  source  from  which  it  springs ; 
and  that  in  the  investigation  into  the  character  and 
authority  of  this  source  consists  the  principal  busi- 
ness of  the  moral  philosopher.  I  am  not  concerned 
here  to  controvert  this  theory,  though,  as  thus 
stated,  I  do  not  agree  with  it.  It  will  be  sufficient 
if  I  lay  down  two  propositions  of  a  much  less 
dubious  character: — (i)  That,  practically,  human 
beings  being  what  they  are,  no  moral  code  can  be 
effective  which  does  not  inspire,  in  those  who  are 
asked  to  obey  it,  emotions  of  reverence  ;  and  (2)  that, 
practically,  the  capacity  of  any  code  to  excite  this  or 
any  other  elevated  emotion  cannot  be  wholly  inde- 
pendent of  the  origin  from  which  those  who  accept 
that  code  suppose  it  to  emanate.^ 

Now  what,  according  to  the  naturalistic  creed,  is 
the  origin  of  the  generally  accepted,  or,  indeed,  of  any 
other  possible,  moral  law?  What  position  does  it 
occupy  in  the  great  web  of  interdependent  phenom- 
ena by  which  the  knowablc  'Whole'  is  on  this 
hypothesis  constituted?     The   answer   is    plain:  as 

'  These  are  statements,  it  will  be  noted,  not  relating  to  ethics 
proper.  They  have  nothing  to  do  either  with  the  contents  of  the 
moral  law  or  with  its  validity ;  and  if  we  are  to  class  them  as  be- 
longing to  any  special  department  of  knowledge  at  all,  it  is  to  psy- 
chology or  anlhropolugy  that  they  should  in  strictness  be  assigned. 


14  NATURALISM   AND   ETHICS 

life  is  but  a  petty  episode  in  the  history  of  the 
universe ;  as  feeling  is  an  attribute  of  only  a  frac- 
tion of  things  that  live,  so  moral  sentiments  and  the 
apprehension  of  moral  rules  are  found  in  but  an 
insignificant  minority  of  things  that  feel.  They  are 
not,  so  to  speak,  among  the  necessities  of  Nature  ;  no 
great  spaces  are  marked  out  for  their  accommodation; 
were  they  to  vanish  to-morrow,  the  great  machine 
would  move  on  with  no  noticeable  variation  ;  the 
sum  of  realities  would  not  suffer  sensible  diminution ; 
the  organic  world  itself  would  scarcely  mark  the 
change.  A  few  highly  developed  mammals,  and 
chiefest  among  these  man,  would  lose  instincts  and 
beliefs  which  have  proved  of  considerable  value  in 
the  struggle  for  existence,  if  not  between  individuals, 
at  least  between  tribes  and  species.  But  put  it  at 
the  highest,  we  can  say  no  more  than  that  there 
would  be  a  great  diminution  of  human  happiness, 
that  civilisation  would  become  difficult  or  impossible, 
and  that  the  '  higher '  races  might  even  succumb  and 
disappear. 

These  are  considerations  which  to  the  '  higher ' 
races  themselves  may  seem  not  unimportant,  how- 
ever trifling  to  the  universe  at  large.  But  let  it  be 
noted  that  every  one  of  these  propositions  can  be 
asserted  with  equal  or  greater  assurance  of  all  the 
bodily  appetites,  and  of  many  of  the  vulgarest  forms 
of  desire  and  ambition.  On  most  of  the  processes,  in- 
deed, by  which  consciousness  and  life  are  maintained 
in  the  individual  and  perpetuated  in  the  race  we  are 


NATURALISM   AND   ETHICS  1$ 

never  consulted  ;  of  their  intimate  character  we  are 
for  the  most  part  totally  ignorant,  and  no  one  is  in 
any  case  asked  to  consider  them  with  any  other 
emotion  than  that  of  enlightened  curiosity.  But  in 
the  few  and  simple  instances  in  which  our  co-opera- 
tion is  required,  it  is  obtained  through  the  stimulus 
supplied  b}'  appetite  and  disgust,  pleasure  and  pain, 
instinct,  reason,  and  morality ;  and  it  is  hard  to  see, 
on  the  naturalistic  hypothesis,  whence  any  one  of 
these  various  natural  agents  is  to  derive  a  dignity  or 
a  consideration  not  shared  by  all  the  others,  why 
morality  should  be  put  above  appetite,  or  reason 
above  pleasure. 

It  may,  perhaps,  be  replied  that  the  sentiments 
with  which  we  choose  to  regard  any  set  of  actions 
or  motives  do  not  require  special  justification,  that 
there  is  no  disputing  about  this  any  more  than  about 
other  questions  of  '  taste,'  and  that,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  the  persons  who  take  a  strictly  naturalistic  view 
of  man  and  of  the  universe  are  often  the  loudest 
and  not  the  least  sincere  in  the  homage  they  pay  to 
the  'majesty  of  the  moral  law.'  This  is,  no  doubt, 
perfectly  true  ;  but  it  does  not  meet  the  real  diffi- 
culty. I  am  not  contending  that  sentiments  of  the 
kind  referred  to  may  not  be,  and  are  not,  frequently 
entertained  by  persons  of  all  shades  of  philosophical 
or  theological  opinion.  My  point  is,  that  in  the  case 
of  those  holding  the  naturalistic  creed  the  sentiments 
and  the  creed  are  antagonistic  ;  and  that  the  more 
clearly  the   creed  is  grasped,  the  more  thoroughly 


l6  NATURALISM   AND   ETHICS 

the  intellect  is  saturated  with  its  essential  teaching, 
the  more  certain  are  the  sentiments  thus  violently 
and  unnaturally  associated  with  it  to  languish  or  to 
die. 

For  not  only  does  there  seem  to  be  no  ground, 
from  the  point  of  view  of  biology,  for  drawing  a 
distinction  in  favour  of  any  of  the  processes,  physio- 
logical or  psychological,  by  which  the  individual  or 
the  race  is  benefited  ;  not  only  are  we  bound  to 
consider  the  coarsest  appetites,  the  most  calculating 
selfishness,  and  the  most  devoted  heroism,  as  all 
sprung  from  analogous  causes  and  all  evolved  for 
similar  objects,  but  we  can  hardly  doubt  that  the 
august  sentiments  which  cling  to  the  ideas  of  duty 
and  sacrifice  are  nothing  better  than  a  device  of 
Nature  to  trick  us  into  the  performance  of  altruistic 
actions.*  The  working  ant  expends  its  life  in  labour- 
ing, with  more  than  maternal  devotion,  for  a  prog- 
eny not  its  own,  and,  so  far  as  the  race  of  ants  is 
concerned,  doubtless  it  does  well.  Instinct,  the  in- 
herited impulse  to  follow  a  certain  course  with  no 
developed  consciousness  of  its  final  goal,  is  here  the 
instrument  selected  by  Nature  to  attain  her  ends. 
But  in  the  case  of  man,  more  flexible  if  less  certain 
methods  have  to  be  employed.  Does  conscience, 
in  bidding  us  to  do  or  to  refrain,  speak  with  an 
authority  from  which  there  seems  no  appeal  ?    Does 

'  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  state  that  in  following  the  precedent 
set  by  Darwin  I  do  not  wish  to  suggest  that  Biology  necessarily  is 
teleological.     Naturalism  of  course  cannot  be. 


NATURALISM   AND   ETHICS  Ij 

our  blood  tingle  at  the  narrative  of  some  great 
deed  ?  Do  courage  and  self-surrender  extort  our 
passionate  sympathy,  and  invite,  however  vainly, 
our  halting  imitation  ?  Does  that  which  is  noble 
attract  even  the  least  noble,  and  that  which  is  base 
repel  even  the  basest  ?  Nay,  have  the  words  '  noble  ' 
and  '  base '  a  meaning  for  us  at  all  ?  If  so,  it  is  from 
no  essential  and  immutable  quality  in  the  deeds 
themselves.  It  is  because,  in  the  struggle  for  ex- 
istence, the  altruistic  virtues  are  an  advantage  to 
the  family,  the  tribe,  or  the  nation,  but  not  always 
an  advantage  to  the  individual ;  it  is  because  man 
comes  into  the  world  richly  endowed  with  the 
inheritance  of  self-regarding  instincts  and  appetites 
required  by  his  animal  progenitors,  but  poor  indeed 
in  any  inbred  inclination  to  the  unselfishness  neces- 
sary to  the  well-being  of  the  society  in  which  he 
lives ;  it  is  because  in  no  other  way  can  the  original 
impulses  be  displaced  by  those  of  late  growth  to  the 
degree  required  by  public  utility,  that  Nature,  in- 
different to  our  happiness,  indifferent  to  our  morals, 
but  sedulous  of  our  survival,  commends  disinterested 
virtue  to  our  practice  by  decking  it  out  in  all  the 
splendour  which  the  specifically  ethical  sentiments 
alone  are  capable  of  supplying.  Could  we  imagine 
the  chronological  order  of  the  evolutionary  process 
reversed :  if  courage  and  abnegation  had  been  the 
qualities  first  needed,  earliest  developed,  and  there- 
fore most  deeply  rooted  in  the  ancestral  organism ; 
while    selfishness,    cowardice,   greediness,   and    lust 


l8  NATURALISM   AND   ETHICS 

represented  impulses  required  only  at  a  later  stage 
of  physical  and  intellectual  development,  doubtless 
we  should  find  the  '  elevated '  emotions  which  now 
crystallise  round  the  first  set  of  attributes  transferred 
without  alteration  or  amendment  to  the  second  ;  the 
preacher  would  expend  his  eloquence  in  warning 
us  against  excessive  indulgence  in  deeds  of  self- 
immolation,  to  which,  like  the  'worker'  ant,  we 
should  be  driven  by  inherited  instinct,  and  in  ex- 
horting us  to  the  performance  of  actions  and  the 
cultivation  of  habits  from  which  we  now,  unfortu- 
nately, find  it  only  too  difficult  to  abstain. 

Kant,  as  we  all  know,  compared  the  Moral  Law 
to  the  starry  heavens,  and  found  them  both  sublime. 
It  would,  on  the  naturalistic  hypothesis,  be  more 
appropriate  to  compare  it  to  the  protective  blotches 
on  the  beetle's  back,  and  to  find  them  both  ingenious. 
But  how  on  this  view  is  the  '  beauty  of  holiness '  to 
retain  its  lustre  in  the  minds  of  those  who  know  so 
much  of  its  pedigree?  In  despite  of  theories,  man- 
kind— even  instructed  mankind — may,  indeed,  long 
preserve  uninjured  sentiments  which  they  have 
learned  in  their  most  impressionable  3'ears  from 
those  they  love  best ;  but  if,  while  they  are  being 
taught  the  supremacy  of  conscience  and  the  austere 
majesty  of  duty,  they  are  also  to  be  taught  that 
these  sentiments  and  beliefs  are  merely  samples  of 
the  complicated  contrivances,  many  of  them  mean 
and  many  of  them  disgusting,  Avrought  into  the 
physical  or  into  the  social  organism  by  the  shaping 


NATURALISM   AND   ETHICS  I9 

forces  of  selection  and  elimination,  assuredly  much 
of  the  efficacy  of  these  moral  lessons  will  be  de- 
stroyed, and  the  contradiction  between  ethical  senti- 
ment and  naturalistic  theory  will  remain  intrusive 
and  perplexing,  a  constant  stumbling-block  to  those 
who  endeavour  to  combine  in  one  harmonious  creed 
the  bare  explanations  of  Biology  and  the  lofty  claims 
of  Ethics.^ 

II 

Unfortunately  for  m}-  reader,  it  is  not  possible 
wholly  to  omit  from  this  section  some  references  to 
the  questionings  which  cluster  round  the  time-worn 
debate  on  Determinism  and  Free  Will ;  but  my  re- 
marks will  be  brief,  and  as  little  tedious  as  may  be. 

'  It  may  perhaps  be  thought  tliat  in  this  section  I  have  too  confi- 
dently assumed  that  morahty,  or,  more  strictly,  the  moral  sentiments 
(including  among  these  the  feeling  of  authority  which  attaches  to 
ethical  imperatives),  are  due  to  the  working  of  natural  selection. 
I  have  no  desire  to  dogmatise  on  a  subject  on  which  it  is  the  busi- 
ness of  the  biologist  and  anthropologist  to  pronounce.  But  it 
seems  difficult  to  believe  that  natural  selection  should  not  have  had 
the  most  important  share  in  producing  and  making  permanent 
things  so  obviously  useful.  If  the  reader  prefers  to  take  the  op- 
jwsite  view,  and  to  regard  moral  sentiments  as  '  accidental,'  he  may 
do  so,  without  on  that  account  being  obliged  to  differ  from  my 
general  argument.  He  will  then,  of  course,  class  moral  sentiments 
with  the  cbsthetic  emotions  dealt  with  in  the  next  chapter. 

Of  course  I  make  no  attempt  to  trace  the  causes  of  the  variations 
on  which  selective  action  has  worked,  nor  to  distinguish  between 
the  moral  sentiments,  an  inclination  to  or  an  aptitude  for  which  has 
been  bred  into  the  pJtysical  organism  of  man  or  some  races  of 
men,  and  those  which  have  been  wrought  only  into  \ht  social  axgaxi- 
ism  of  the  family,  the  tribe,  or  the  State. 


20  NATURALISM   AND   ETHICS 

I  have  nothing  here  to  do  with  the  truth  or  un- 
truth of  either  of  the  contending  theories.  It  is 
sufficient  to  remind  the  reader  that  on  the  naturalis- 
tic view,  at  least,  free  will  is  an  absurdity,  and  that 
those  who  hold  that  view  are  bound  to  believe  that 
every  decision  at  which  mankind  have  arrived,  and 
every  consequent  action  which  they  have  performed, 
was  implicitly  determined  by  the  quantity  and  dis- 
tribution of  the  various  forms  of  matter  and  energy 
which  preceded  the  birth  of  the  solar  system.  The 
fact,  no  doubt,  remains^  that  every  individual,  while 
balancing  between  two  courses,  is  under  the  inevi- 
table impression  that  he  is  at  liberty  to  pursue  either, 
and  that  it  depends  upon  'himself  and  himself 
alone,  'himself  as  distinguished  from  his  character, 
his  desires,  his  surroundings,  and  his  antecedents, 
which  of  the  offered  alternatives  he  will  elect  to 
pursue.  I  do  not  know  that  any  explanation  has 
been  proposed  of  what,  on  the  naturalistic  hypothe- 
sis, we  must  regard  as  a  singular  illusion,  I  vent- 
ure with  some  diffidence  to  suggest,  as  a  theory  pro- 
visionally adequate,  perhaps,  for  scientific  purposes, 
that  the  phenomenon  is  due  to  the  same  cause  as  so 
many  other  beneficent  oddities  in  the  organic  world, 
namely,  to  natural  selection.  To  an  animal  with  no 
self-consciousness  a  sense  of  freedom  would  evidently 
be  unnecessary,  if  not,  indeed,  absolutely  unmeaning. 
But  as  soon  as  self-consciousness   is  developed,  as 

'  At   least,  so  it  seems  to  me.     There  are,  however,    eminent 
psychologists  who  differ. 


NATURALISM   AND    ETHICS  21 

soon  as  man  begins  to  reflect,  however  crudely  and 
imperfectly,  upon  himself  and  the  world  in  which  he 
lives,  then  deliberation,  volition,  and  the  sense  of  re- 
sponsibility become  wheels  in  the  ordinary  machinery 
by  which  species-preserving  actions  are  produced; 
and  as  these  psychological  states  would  be  weakened 
or  neutralised  if  they  were  accompanied  by  the  imme- 
diate consciousness  that  they  were  as  rigidly  deter- 
mined by  their  antecedents  as  any  other  effects  by 
any  other  causes,  benevolent  Nature  steps  in,  and  by 
a  process  of  selective  slaughter  makes  the  conscious- 
ness in  such  circumstances  practically  impossible. 
The  spectacle  of  all  mankind  suffering  under  the 
delusion  that  in  their  decision  they  are  free,  when, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  they  are  nothing  of  the  kind, 
must  certainly  appear  extremely  ludicrous  to  any 
superior  observer,  were  it  possible  to  conceive,  on 
the  naturalistic  hypothesis,  that  such  observers 
should  exist  ;  and  the  comedy  could  not  be  other- 
wise than  greatly  relieved  and  heightened  by  the 
performances  of  the  small  sect  of  philosophers  who, 
knowing  perfectly  as  an  abstract  truth  that  freedom 
is  an  absurdity,  yet  in  moments  of  balance  and 
deliberation  fall  into  the  vulgar  error,  as  if  they  were 
savages  or  idealists. 

The  roots  of  a  superstition  so  ineradicable  must 
lie  deep  in  the  groundwork  of  our  inherited  organ- 
ism, and  must,  if  not  now,  at  least  in  the  first  begin- 
ning of  self-consciousness,  have  been  essential  to  the 
welfare  of   the   race   which   entertained   it.     Yet   it 


22  NATURALISM   AND    ETHICS 

may,  perhaps,  be  thought  that  this  requires  us  to 
attribute  to  the  dawn  of  intelligence  ideas  which  are 
notoriously  of  late  development;  and  that  as  the 
primitive  man  knew  nothing  of '  invariable  sequences  ' 
or  'universal  causation,'  he  could  in  nowise  be  em- 
barrassed in  the  struggle  for  existence  by  recognising 
that  he  and  his  proceedings  were  as  absolutely  deter- 
mined by  their  antecedents  as  sticks  and  stones.  It 
is,  of  course,  true  that  in  any  formal  or  philosophical 
shape  such  ideas  would  be  as  remote  from  the  intel- 
ligence of  the  savage  as  the  differential  calculus. 
But  it  can,  nevertheless,  hardly  be  denied  that,  in 
some  shape  or  other,  there  must  be  implicitly  present 
to  his  consciousness  the  sense  of  freedom,  since  his 
fetichism  largely  consists  in  attributing  to  inanimate 
objects  the  spontaneity  which  he  finds  in  himself ; 
and  it  seems  equally  certain  that  the  sense,  I  will 
not  say  of  constraint,  but  of  incvitablcncss,  would  be 
as  embarrassing  to  a  savage  in  the  act  of  choice  as 
it  would  to  his  more  cultivated  descendant,  and 
would  be  not  less  productive  of  that  moral  im- 
poverishment which,  as  I  proceed  briefly  to  point 
out.  Determinism  is  calculated  to  produce.^ 

1  It  seems  to  be  regarded  as  quite  simple  and  natural  that  this 
attribution  of  human  spontaneity  to  inanimate  objects  should  be  the 
first  stage  in  the  interpretation  of  the  external  world,  and  that  it 
should  be  only  after  the  uniformity  of  material  Nature  had  been  con- 
clusively established  by  long  and  laborious  experience  that  the  same 
principles  were  applied  to  the  inner  experience  of  man  himself.  But, 
in  truth,  unless  man  in  the  very  earliest  stages  of  his  development  had 
believed  himself  to  be  free,  precisely  the  opposite  order  of  discovery 
might  have  been  anticipated.     Even  now  our  means  of  external 


NATURALISM   AND   ETHICS  23 

And  here  I  am  anxious  to  avoid  any  appearance 
of  the  exaggeration  which,  as  I  think,  has  sometimes 
characterised  discussions  upon  this  subject.  I  admit 
that  there  is  nothing  in  the  theory  of  determinism 
which  need  modify  the  substance  of  the  moral  law. 
That  which  duty  prescribes,  or  the  '  Practical  Rea- 
son '  recommends,  is  equally  prescribed  and  recom- 
mended whether  our  actual  decisions  are  or  are  not 
irrevocably  bound  by  a  causal  chain  which  reaches 
back  in  unbroken  retrogression  through  a  limitless 
past.     It  may  also  be  admitted   that  no  argument 

investigation  are  so  imperfect  that  it  is  rather  a  stretch  of  lan- 
guage to  say  that  the  theory  of  uniformity  is  in  accordance  with 
experience,  much  less  that  it  is  established  by  it.  On  the  contrary, 
the  more  refined  are  our  experiments,  the  more  elaborate  are  our 
precautions,  the  more  difficult  it  is  to  obtain  results  absolutely  identi- 
cal with  each  other,  qualitatively  as  well  as  quantitatively.  So  far, 
therefore,  as  mere  observation  goes.  Nature  seems  to  be  always 
aiming  at  a  uniformity  which  she  never  quite  succeeds  in  attaining; 
and  though  it  is  no  doubt  true  that  the  differences  are  due  to  errors 
in  the  observations  and  not  to  errors  in  Nature,  this  manifestly  cannot 
be  proved  by  the  observations  themselves,  but  only  by  a  theory 
established  independently  of  the  observations,  and  by  which  these 
may  be  corrected  and  interpreted.  Rut  a  man's  own  motives  for 
acting  in  a  particular  way  at  a  particular  time  are  simple  compared 
with  the  complexities  of  the  material  world,  and  to  himself  at  least 
might  be  known  (one  would  suppose)  with  reasonable  certainty. 
Here,  then  (were  it  not  for  the  inveterate  illusion,  old  as  self- 
consciousness  itself,  that  at  the  moment  of  choice  no  uniformity  of 
antecedents  need  insure  a  uniformity  of  consequences)  would  have 
been  the  natural  starting-point  and  suggestion  of  a  theory  of  causa- 
tion which,  as  experience  ripened  and  knowledge  grew,  might  have 
gradually  extended  itself  to  the  universe  at  large.  Man  would,  in 
fact,  have  had  nothing  more  to  do  than  to  apply  to  the  chaotic  com- 
plex of  the  macrocosm  the  principle's  of  rigid  and  unchanging  law  by 
which  he  had  discovered  the  microcosm  to  be  governed. 


24  NATURALISM   AND   ETHICS 

against  good  resolutions  or  virtuous  endeavours 
can  fairly  be  founded  upon  necessitarian  doctrines". 
No  doubt  he  who  makes  either  good  resolutions  or 
virtuous  endeavours  does  so  (on  the  determinist 
theory)  because  he  could  not  do  otherwise  ;  but 
none  the  less  may  these  play  an  important  part 
among  the  antecedents  by  which  moral  actions  are 
ultimately  produced.  An  even  stronger  admission 
may,  1  think,  be  properly  made.  There  is  a  fatalis- 
tic temper  of  mind  found  in  some  of  the  greatest 
men  of  action,  religious  and  irreligious,  in  which  the 
sense  that  all  that  happens  is  fore-ordained  does  in 
no  way  weaken  the  energy  of  volition,  but  only 
adds  a  finer  temper  to  the  courage.  It  nevertheless 
remains  the  fact  that  the  persistent  realisation  of 
the  doctrine  that  voluntary  decisions  are  as  com- 
pletely determined  by  external  and  (if  you  go  far 
enough  back)  by  material  conditions  as  involuntary 
ones,  does  really  conflict  with  the  sense  of  personal 
responsibility,  and  that  with  the  sense  of  personal 
responsibility  is  bound  up  the  moral  will.  Nor  is 
this  all.  It  may  be  a  small  matter  that  determinism 
should  render  it  thoroughly  irrational  to  feel  right- 
eous indignation  at  the  misconduct  of  other  people. 
It  cannot  be  wholly  without  importance  that  it 
should  render  it  equally  irrational  to  feel  righteous 
indignation  at  our  own.  Self-condemnation,  repent- 
ance, remorse,  and  the  whole  train  of  cognate  emo- 
tions, are  really  so  useful  for  the  promotion  of  virt- 
ue that  it  is  a  pity  to  find  them  at  a  stroke  thus 


NATURALISM    AND    ETHICS  2$ 

deprived  of  all  reasonable  foundation,  and  reduced, 
if  they  are  to  survive  at  all,  to  the  position  of  ami- 
able but  unintelligent  weaknesses.  It  is  clear,  more- 
over, that  these  emotions,  if  they  are  to  fall,  will  not 
fall  alone.  What  is  to  become  of  moral  admiration? 
The  virtuous  man  will,  indeed,  continue  to  deserve 
and  to  receive  admiration  of  a  certain  kind — the 
admiration,  namely,  which  we  justly  accord  to  a 
well-made  machine ;  but  this  is  a  very  different  senti- 
ment from  that  at  present  evoked  by  the  heroic  or 
the  saintl}- ;  and  it  is,  therefore,  much  to  be  feared 
that,  at  least  in  the  region  of  the  higher  feelings, 
the  world  will  be  no  great  gainer  by  the  effective 
spread  of  sound  naturalistic  doctrine. 

No  doubt  this  conflict  between  a  creed  which 
claims  intellectual  assent  and  emotions  which  have 
their  root  and  justification  in  beliefs  which  are 
deliberately  rejected,  is  greatly  mitigated  by  the 
precious  faculty  which  the  human  race  enjoys  of 
quietly  ignoring  the  logical  consequences  of  its  own 
accepted  theories.  If  the  abstract  reason  by  which 
such  theories  are  contrived  always  ended  in  pro- 
ducing a  practice  corresponding  to  them,  natural 
selection  would  lonsf  asfo  have  killed  off  all  those 
who  possessed  abstract  reason.  If  a  complete 
accord  between  practice  and  sj^cculation  were 
required  of  us,  philosophers  would  long  ago  have 
been  eliminated.  Nevertheless,  the  persistent  con- 
flict between  that  which  is  thought  to  be  true, 
and  that  which    is    felt    to    be    noble  and  of  good 


26  NATURALISM    AND    ETHICS 

report,  not  only  produces  a  sense  of  moral  unrest  in 
the  individual,  but  makes  it  impossible  for  us  to 
avoid  the  conclusion  that  the  creed  which  leads  to 
such  results  is,  somehow,  unsuited  for  '  such  beings 
as  we  are  in  such  a  world  as  ours.' 


Ill 

There  is  thus  an  incongruity  between  the  senti- 
ments subservient  to  morality,  and  the  naturalistic 
account  of  their  origin.  It  remains  to  inquire 
whether  any  better  harmony  prevails  between  the 
demands  of  the  ethical  imagination  and  what 
Naturalism  tells  us  concerning  the  final  goal  of  all 
human  endeavour. 

This  is  plainly  not  a  question  of  small  or  sub- 
sidiary importance,  though  it  is  one  which  I  shall 
make  no  attempt  to  treat  with  anything  like  com- 
pleteness. Two  only  of  these  ethical  demands  is  it 
necessary,  indeed,  that  I  should  here  refer  to :  that 
which  requires  the  ends  prescribed  by  morality  to 
be  consistent ;  and  that  which  requires  them  to  be 
adequate.  Can  we  say  that  either  one  or  the  other 
is  of  a  kind  which  the  naturalistic  theory  is  able  to 
satisfy  ? 

The  first  of  these  questions  —  that  relating  to 
consistency — will  no  doubt  be  dealt  with  in  different 
ways  by  various  schools  of  moralists ;  but  by  what- 
ever path  they  travel,  all  should  arrive  at  a  negative 
conclusion.      Those  who  hold  as  I  do,  that  *  reason- 


NATURALISM    AND    ETHICS  2/ 

able  self-love'  has  a  legitimate  position  among 
ethical  ends  ;  that  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  a  virtue 
wholly  incompatible  with  what  is  commonly  called 
selhshness  ;  and  that  society  suffers  not  from  having 
too  much  of  it,  but  from  having  too  little,  will 
probably  take  the  view  that,  until  the  world  under- 
goes a  very  remarkable  transformation,  a  complete 
harmony  between  '  egoism  '  and  '  altruism,'  between 
the  pursuit  of  the  highest  happiness  for  one's  self 
and  the  highest  happiness  for  other  people,  can 
never  be  provided  by  a  creed  which  refuses  to 
admit  that  the  deeds  done  and  the  character 
formed  in  this  life  can  How  over  into  another, 
and  there  permit  a  reconciliation  and  an  adjust- 
ment between  the  conflicting  principles  which  are 
not  always  possible  here.  To  those,  again,  who 
hold  (as  I  think,  erroneously),  both  that  the 
'greatest  happiness  of  the  greatest  number' is  the 
right  end  of  action,  and  also  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
every  agent  invariably  pursues  his  own,  a  heaven 
and  a  hell,  which  should  make  it  certain  that 
principle  and  interest  were  always  in  agreement, 
would  seem  almost  a  necessity.  Not  otherwise, 
neither  by  education,  public  opinion,  nor  positive 
law,  can  there  be  any  assured  harmony  produced 
between  that  which  man  must  do  by  the  constitution 
of  his  will,  and  that  which  he  ought  to  do  according 
to  the  promptings  of  his  conscience.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  those  moralists 
who  are  of  opinion   that  'altruistic'  ends  alone  are 


28  NATURALISM   AND   ETHICS 

worthy  of  being  described  as  moral,  and  that  man  is 
not  incapable  of  pursuing  them  without  any  self- 
regarding  motives,  require  no  future  life  to  eke  out 
their  practical  system.  But  even  they  would  prob- 
ably not  be  unwilling  to  admit,  with  the  rest  of  the 
world,  that  there  is  something  jarring  to  the  moral 
sense  in  a  comparison  between  the  distribution  of 
happiness  and  the  distribution  of  virtue,  and  that  no 
better  mitigation  of  the  difficulty  has  yet  been 
suggested  than  that  which  is  provided  by  a  system 
of '  rewards  and  punishments,'  impossible  in  any  uni- 
verse constructed  on  strictly  naturalistic  principles. 
With  this  bare  indication  of  some  of  the  points 
which  naturally  suggest  themselves  in  connection 
with  the  first  question  suggested  above,  I  pass  on  to 
the  more  interesting  problem  raised  by  the  second : 
that  which  is  concerned  with  the  r;//f//^//<'r/ adequacy 
of  the  ends  prescribed  by  Naturalistic  Ethics.  And 
in  order  to  consider  this  to  the  best  advantasfe  I 
will  assume  that  we  are  dealing  Avith  an  ethical  sys- 
tem which  puts  these  ends  at  their  highest;  which 
charges  them,  as  it  were,  to  the  full  with  all  that, 
on  the  naturalistic  theory,  they  are  capable  of  con- 
taining. Taking,  then,  as  my  text  no  narrow  or 
egoistic  scheme,  I  will  suppose  that  in  the  per- 
fection and  felicity  of  the  sentient  creation  we  may 
find  the  all-inclusive  object  prescribed  by  morality 
for  human  endeavour.  Does  this,  then,  or  does  it 
not,  supply  us  with  all  that  is  needed  to  satisfy  our 
ethical  imagination  ?     Does  it,  or  does  it  not,  pro- 


NATURALISM   AND   ETHICS  29 

vide  US  with  an  ideal  end,  not  merely  big  enough 
to  exhaust  our  energies,  but  great  enough  to  satisfy 
our  aspirations  ? 

At  first  sight  the  question  may  seem  absurd. 
The  object  is  admittedly  worthy  ;  it  is  admittedly 
beyond  our  reach.  The  unwearied  efforts  of  count- 
less generations,  the  slow  accumulation  of  inherited 
experience,  may,  to  those  who  find  themselves  able 
to  read  optimism  into  evolution,  promise  some  faint 
approximation  to  the  millennium  at  some  far  distant 
epoch.  How,  then,  can  we,  whose  own  contribution 
to  the  great  result  must  be  at  the  best  insignificant, 
at  the  worst  nothing  or  worse  than  nothing,  presume 
to  think  that  the  prescribed  object  is  less  than 
adequate  to  our  highest  emotional  requirements? 
The  reason  is  plain:  our  ideals  are  framed,  not 
according  to  the  measure  of  our  performances,  but 
according  to  the  measure  of  our  thoughts ;  and  our 
tlioughts  about  the  world  in  which  we  live  tend, 
under  the  influence  of  increasing  knowledge,  con- 
stantly to  dwarf  our  estimate  of  the  importance  of 
man,  if  man  be  indeed,  as  Naturalism  would  have  us 
believe,  no  more  than  a  phenomenon  among  phenom- 
ena, a  natural  object  among  other  natural  objects. 

For  what  is  man  looked  at  from  this  point  of 
view  ?  Time  was  when  his  tribe  and  its  fortunes 
were  enough  to  exhaust  the  energies  and  to  bound 
the  imagination  of  the  primitive  sage.'     The  gods' 


'  The  line  of  thnu.jT^ht  here  is  identical  with  that  which  I  pursued 
in  an  already  published  essay  on  the  RcllL^iim  of  Humanity.     I 


30  NATURALISM   AND   ETHICS 

peculiar  care,  the  central  object  of  an  attendant  uni- 
verse, that  for  which  the  sun  shone  and  the  dew 
fell,  to  which  the  stars  in  their  courses  ministered,  it 
drew  its  origin  in  the  past  from  divine  ancestors, 
and  might  by  divine  favour  be  destined  to  an  indef- 
inite existence  of  success  and  triumph  in  the  future. 
These  ideas  represent  no  early  or  rudimentary 
stage  in  the  human  thought,  yet  have  we  left  them 
far  behind.  The  family,  the  tribe,  the  nation,  are 
no  longer  enough  to  absorb  our  interests.  Man — 
past,  present,  and  future — lays  claim  to  our  devo- 
tion. What,  then,  can  we  say  of  him  ?  Man,  so  far 
as  natural  science  by  itself  is  able  to  teach  us,  is  no 
longer  the  final  cause  of  the  universe,  the  Heaven- 
descended  heir  of  all  the  ages.  His  very  existence 
is  an  accident,  his  story  a  brief  and  transitory 
episode  in  the  life  of  one  of  the  meanest  of  the 
planets.  Of  the  combination  of  causes  which  first 
converted  a  dead  organic  compound  into  the  living 
progenitors  of  humanity,  science,  indeed,  as  yet 
knows  nothing.  It  is  enough  that  from  such  begin- 
nings famine,  disease,  and  mutual  slaughter,  fit  nurses 
of  the  future  lords  of  creation,  have  gradually 
evolved,  after  infinite  travail,  a  race  with  conscience 
enough  to  feel  that  it  is  vile,  and  intelligence 
enough  to  know  that  it  is  insignificant.  We  survey 
the  past,  and  see  that  its  history  is  of  blood  and  tears, 
of  helpless  blundering,  of  wild  revolt,  of  stupid  ac- 

have  not  hesitated  to  borrow  the  phraseology  of  that  essay  wherever 
it  seemed  convenient. 


NATURALISM   AND   ETHICS  3 1 

quiescence,  of  empty  aspirations.  We  sound  the 
future,  and  learn  that  after  a  period,  long  compared 
with  the  individual  life,  but  short  indeed  compared 
with  the  divisions  of  time  open  to  our  investigation, 
the  energies  of  our  system  will  decay,  the  glory  of 
the  sun  will  be  dimmed,  and  the  earth,  tideless  and 
inert,  will  no  longer  tolerate  the  race  which  has  for 
a  moment  disturbed  its  solitude.  Man  will  go  down 
into  the  pit,  and  all  his  thoughts  will  perish.  The 
uneasy  consciousness,  which  in  this  obscure  corner 
has  for  a  brief  space  broken  the  contented  silence  of 
the  universe,  will  be  at  rest.  Matter  will  know  itself 
no  longer.  '  Imperishable  monuments '  and  '  immortal 
deeds,'  death  itself,  and  love  stronger  than  death, 
will  be  as  though  they  had  never  been.  Nor  will 
anything  that  is  be  better  or  be  worse  for  all  that  the 
labour,  genius,  devotion,  and  suffering  of  man  have 
striven  through  countless  generations  to  effect. 

It  is  no  reply  to  say  that  the  substance  of  the 
Moral  Law  need  suffer  no  change  through  any 
modification  of  our  views  of  man's  place  in  the 
universe.  This  may  be  true,  but  it  is  irrelevant. 
We  desire,  and  desire  most  passionately  when  we 
are  most  ourselves,  to  give  our  service  to  that  which 
is  Universal,  and  to  that  which  is  Abiding.  Of  what 
moment  is  it,  then  (from  this  point  of  view),  to  be 
assured  of  the  fixity  of  the  moral  law  when  it  and 
the  sentient  world,  where  alone  it  has  any  signifi- 
cance, are  alike  destined  to  vanish  utterly  away 
within  })eriods  trifiing  beside  those  with  which  the 


32  NATURALISM   AND    ETHICS 

geologist  and  the  astronomer  lightly  deal  in  the 
course  of  their  habitual  speculations  ?  No  doubt  to 
us  ordinary  men  in  our  ordinary  moments  considera- 
tions like  these  may  seem  far  off  and  of  little  mean- 
ing. In  the  hurry  and  bustle  of  every-day  life  death 
itself — the  death  of  the  individual — seems  shadowy 
and  unreal ;  how  much  more  shadowy,  how  much 
less  real,  that  remoter  but  not  less  certain  death 
which  must  some  day  overtake  the  race  !  Yet,  after 
all,  it  is  in  moments  of  reflection  that  the  worth  of 
creeds  may  best  be  tested  ;  it  is  through  moments  of 
reflection  that  they  come  into  living  and  effectual 
contact  with  our  active  life.  It  cannot,  therefore,  be 
a  matter  to  us  of  small  moment  that,  as  we  learn  to 
survey  the  material  world  with  a  wider  vision,  as  we 
more  clearly  measure  the  true  proportions  which 
man  and  his  performances  bear  to  the  ordered  Whole, 
our  practical  ideal  gets  relatively  dwarfed  and 
beggared,  till  we  may  well  feel  inclined  to  ask 
whether  so  transitory  and  so  unimportant  an  acci- 
dent in  the  general  scheme  of  things  as  the  fortunes 
of  the  human  race  can  any  longer  satisfy  aspirations 
and  emotions  nourished  upon  beliefs  in  the  Ever- 
lastinof  and  the  Divine. 


CHAPTER  II 

NATURALISM   AND   ^ESTHETIC 


In  the  last  chapter  I  considered  the  effects  which 
Naturalism  must  tend  to  produce  upon  the  senti- 
ments associated  with  Morality.  I  now  proceed  to 
consider  the  same  question  in  connection  with  the 
sentiments  known  as  assthetic ;  and  as  I  assumed  that 
the  former  class  were,  like  other  evolutionary  utilities, 
in  the  main  produced  by  the  normal  operation  of 
selection,  so  I  now  assume  that  the  latter,  being  (at 
least  in  any  developed  stage)  quite  useless  for  the 
perfection  of  the  individual  or  species,  must  be  re- 
garded, upon  the  naturalistic  hypothesis,  as  mere  by- 
])roducts  of  the  great  machinery  by  which  organic 
life  is  varied  and  sustained.  It  will  not,  I  hope,  be 
supposed  that  I  propose  to  offer  this  distinction  as  a 
material  contribution  towards  the  definition  either 
of  ethic  or  of  esthetic  sentiments.  This  is  a  ques- 
tion in  which  I  am  in  no  way  interested  ;  and  I  am 
quite  prepared  to  admit  that  some  emotions  which 
in  ordinary  language  would  be  described  as*  moral,' 
are  useless  enough  to  be  included  in  the  class  of 
natural  accidents;  and  alsu  that  this  class  may, 
3 


34  NATURALISM   AND   /ESTHETIC 

indeed  does,  include  many  emotions  which  no  one 
following  common  usage  would  characterise  as 
aesthetic.  The  fact  remains,  however,  that  the 
capacity  for  every  form  of  feeling  must  in  the  main 
either  be,  or  not  be,  the  direct  result  of  selection 
and  elimination  ;  and  whereas  in  the  first  section  of 
the  last  chapter  I  considered  the  former  class,  taking 
moral  emotion  as  their  type,  so  now  I  propose  to 
offer  some  observations  on  the  second  class,  takinsf 
as  their  type  the  emotions  excited  by  the  Beautiful. 
Whatever  value  these  Notes  may  have  will  not 
necessarily  be  affected  by  any  error  that  I  may 
have  made  in  the  apportionment  between  the  two 
divisions,  and  the  reader  may  make  what  redistri- 
bution he  thinks  fit,  without  thereby  necessarily  in- 
validating the  substance  of  the  conclusions  which  I 
offer  for  his  acceptance. 

I  do  not,  however,  anticipate  that  there  will  be 
any  serious  objection  raised  from  the  scientific  side 
to  the  description  of  developed  aesthetic  emotion  as 
'  accidental,'  in  the  sense  in  which  that  word  is 
here  employed.  The  obstacle  I  have  to  deal  with 
in  conducting  the  argument  of  this  chapter  is  of  a 
different  kind.  My  object  is  to  indicate  the  conse- 
quences which  flow  from  a  purely  naturalistic  treat- 
ment of  the  theory  of  the  Beautiful  ;  and  I  am  at  once 
met  with  the  difficulty  that,  so  far  as  I  am  aware, 
no  such  treatment  has  ever  been  attempted  on  a 
large  scale,  and  that  the  fragmentary  contributions 
which  have  been  made  to  the  subject  do  not  meet 


NATURALISM   AND   ^ESTHETIC  35 

with  general  acceptance  on  the  part  of  scientific  in- 
vestigators themselves.  To  say  that  certain  capaci- 
ties for  highly  complex  feeling  are  not  the  direct 
result  of  natural  selection,  and  were  not  evolved  to 
aid  the  race  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  may  be  a 
true,  but  is  a  purely  negative  account  of  the  matter, 
and  gives  but  little  help  in  dealing  with  the  two 
questions  to  which  an  answer  is  especially  required  : 
namely,  What  are  the  causes,  historical,  psychologi- 
cal, and  physiological,  which  enable  us  to  derive  aes- 
thetic gratification  from  some  objects,  and  forbid  us 
to  derive  it  from  others  ?  and,  Is  there  any  fixed  and 
permanent  element  in  Beauty,  any  unchanging  reali- 
ty which  we  perceive  in  or  through  beautiful  objects, 
and  to  which  normal  cesthetic  feelings  correspond  ? 

Now,  it  is  clear  that  on  the  naturalistic  hypothesis 
the  second  question  cannot  be  properly  dealt  with 
till  some  sort  of  answer  has  been  given  to  the  first ; 
and  the  answers  given  to  the  first  seem  so  unsat- 
isfactory that  they  can  hardly  be  regarded  as  even 
provisionally  adequate. 

In  order  to  realise  the  difficulties  and,  as  I  think, 
the  shortcomings  of  existing  theories  on  the  sub- 
ject, let  us  take  the  case  of  Music — by  far  the  most 
convenient  of  the  Fine  Arts  for  our  purpose,  part- 
ly because,  unlike  Architecture,  it  serves  no  very 
obvious  purpose,^  and  we  arc   thus  absolved   from 

'  I  may  be  permitted  to  iijnore  Mr.  Spencer's  suggestion  that 
the  funrtion  of  music  is  to  promote  sympathy  by  improving  our 
modulation  in  speech. 


36  NATURALISM   AND   /tSTHETIC 

giving  any  opinion  on  the  relation  between  beauty 
and  utility ;  partly  because,  unlike  Painting  and 
Poetry,  it  has  no  external  reference,  and  we  are  thus 
absolved  from  giving  any  opinion  on  the  relation 
between  beauty  and  truth.  Of  the  inestimable 
blessings  which  these  peculiarities  carry  with  them, 
anyone  may  judge  who  has  ever  got  bogged  in  the 
barren  controversies  concerning  the  Beautiful  and 
the  Useful,  the  Real  and  the  Ideal,  which  fill  so  large 
a  space  in  certain  classes  of  sesthetic  literature. 
Great  indeed  will  he  feel  the  advantages  to  be  of 
dealing  with  an  Art  whose  most  characteristic 
utterances  have  so  little  to  do  directly,  either  with 
utility  or  truth. 

What,  then,  is  the  cause  of  our  delight  in  Music  ? 
It  is  sometimes  hastily  said  to  have  originated  in 
the  ancestors  of  man  through  the  action  of  sexual 
selection.  This  is  of  course  impossible.  Sexual 
selection  can  only  work  on  materials  already  in 
existence.  Like  other  forms  of  selection,  it  can  im- 
prove, but  it  cannot  create;  and  the  capacity  for 
enjoying  music  (or  noise)  on  the  part  of  the  female, 
and  the  capacity  for  making  it  on  the  part  of  the 
male,  must  both  have  existed  in  a  rudimentary  state 
before  matrimonial  preferences  can  have  improved 
either  one  gift  or  the  other.  I  do  not  in  any  case 
quite  understand  how  sexual  selection  is  supposed 
even  to  improve  the  capacity  for  cnjoymejit.  If  the 
taste  exist,  it  can  no  doubt  develop  the  means  re- 
quired for  its  gratification;  but  how  can  it  improve 


NATURALISM    AND    .ESTHETIC  37 

the  taste  itself?  The  fenuiles  of  certain  species  of 
spiders,  I  believe,  like  to  see  good  dancing.  Sexual 
selection,  therefore,  no  doubt  may  gradually  improve 
the  dancing  of  the  male.  The  females  of  many 
animals  are,  it  seems,  fond  of  particular  kinds  of 
noise.  Sexual  selection  may  therefore  gradually  fur- 
nish the  male  with  the  apparatus  by  which  appro- 
priate noises  may  be  produced.  In  both  cases, 
however,  a  pre-existing  taste  is  the  cause  of  the 
variation,  not  the  variation  of  the  taste ;  nor,  ex- 
cept in  the  case  of  the  advanced  arts,  which  do  not 
flourish  at  a  period  when  those  who  successfully 
practise  them  have  any  advantage  in  the  matri- 
monial struggle,  does  taste  appear  to  be  one  of  the 
necessary  qualifications  of  the  successful  artist.  Of 
course,  if  violin  -  playing  were  an  important  aid  to 
courtship,  sexual  selection  would  tend  to  develop 
that  musical  feeling  and  discrimination,  without 
which  good  violin-playing  is  impossible.  But  a 
grasshopper  requires  no  artistic  sensibility  before 
it  can  successfully  rub  its  wing-cases  together  ;  so 
that  Nature  is  only  concerned  to  provide  the  an- 
atomical machinery  by  which  such  rubbing  may 
result  in  a  sibilation  gratifying  to  the  existing 
aesthetic  sensibilities  of  the  female,  but  cannot  in 
any  way  be  concerned  in  developing  the  artistic 
side  of  those  sensibilities  themselves. 

Sexual  selection,  therefore,  however  well  it  may 
be  fitted  to  give  an  explanation  of  a  large  ninnber  of 
animal  noises  and  of  the  growth  of  the  organs  by 


38  NATURALISM    AND    /ESTHETIC 

which  they  are  produced,  throws  but  little  light  on 
the  origin  and  development  of  musical  feeling,  either 
in  animals  or  men.  And  the  other  explanations  I 
have  seen  do  not  seem  to  me  much  better.  Take, 
for  instance,  Mr.  Spencer's  modification  of  Rousseau's 
theory.  According  to  Mr.  Spencer,  strong  emotions 
are  naturally  accompanied  by  muscular  exertion,  and, 
among  other  muscular  exertions,  by  contractions 
and  extensions  of '  the  muscles  of  the  chest,  abdomen, 
and  vocal  cords.'  The  resultant  noises  recall  by 
association  the  emotions  which  gave  them  birth,  and 
from  this  primordial  coincidence  sprang,  as  we  are 
asked  to  believe,  first  cadenced  speech,  and  then 
music.  Now  I  do  not  desire  to  quarrel  with  the 
'  primordial  coincidence.'  My  point  is,  that  even  if 
it  ever  took  place,  it  affords  no  explanation  of  any 
modern  feeling  for  music.  Grant  that  a  particular 
emotion  produced  a  '  contraction  of  the  abdomen,' 
that  the  '  contraction  of  the  abdomen '  produced  a 
sound  or  series  of  sounds,  and  that,  through  this 
association  with  the  originating  emotion,  the  sound 
ultimately  came  to  have  independent  aesthetic  value, 
how  are  we  advanced  towards  any  explanation  of 
the  fact  that  quite  different  sound-effects  now  please 
us,  and  that  the  nearer  we  get  to  the  original  noises, 
the  more  hideous  they  appear?  JHow  does  the  '  pri- 
mordial coincidence  '  account  for  our  ancestors  lik- 
ing the  tom-tom?  And  how  does  the  fact  that  our 
ancestors  liked  the  tom-tom  account  for  our  liking 
the  Ninth  Symphony  ? 


NATURALISM   AND   .ESTHETIC  39 

The  truth  is  that  Mr.  Spencer's  theory,  like  all 
others  which  endeavour  to  trace  back  the  pleasure- 
friving  qualities  of  art  to  some  simple  and  original 
association,  slurs  over  the  real  difficulties  of  the 
problem.  If  it  is  the  primitive  association  which 
produces  the  pleasure-giving  quality,  the  further  this 
is  left  behind  by  the  developing  art,  the  less  pleasure 
should  be  produced.  Of  course,  if  the  art  is  con- 
tinually fed  from  other  associations  and  different 
experiences,  if  fresh  emotional  elements  are  con- 
stantly added  to  it  capable  of  being  worn  and 
weathered  into  the  fitting  soil  for  an  cesthetic  har- 
vest, in  that  case,  no  doubt,  we  may  suppose  that 
with  each  new  development  its  pleasure  -  giving 
qualities  may  be  enriched  and  multiplied.  But  then, 
it  is  to  these  new  elements  and  to  these  new  experi- 
ences, not  to  the  '  primordial  coincidence,'  that  we 
should  mainly  look  for  the  causal  explanation  of 
our  aesthetic  feeling.  In  the  case  of  music,  where 
are  these  new  elements  and  experiences  to  be 
found  ?  None  can  tell  us ;  few  theorists  even  try. 
Indeed,  the  procedure  of  those  who  account  for 
music  by  searching  for  the  primitive  association 
which  first  in  the  history  of  man  or  of  his  ancestors 
conferred  aesthetic  value  upon  noise,  is  as  if  one 
should  explain  the  Amazon  in  its  flood  by  point- 
ing to  the  rivulet  in  the  far  Andes  which,  as  the 
tributary  most  distant  from  its  mouth,  has  the  honour 
of  being  called  its  source.  This  may  be  allowed  to 
stand  as  a  geographical  description,  but  it  is  very 


40  NATURALISM   AND   ^ESTHETIC 

inadequate  as  a  physical  explanation.  Dry  up  the 
rivulet,  and  the  huge  river  would  still  flow  on, 
without  abatement  or  diminution.  Only  its  titular 
origin  has  been  touched ;  and  if  we  would  know  the 
Amazon  in  its  beginnings,  and  trace  back  the  history 
of  the  vast  result  through  all  the  complex  ramifica- 
tions of  its  contributory  causes,  each  great  confluent 
must  be  explored,  each  of  the  countless  streams 
enumerated  whose  gathered  waters  sweep  into  the 
sea  four  thousand  miles  across  the  plain. 

The  imperfection  of  this  mode  of  procedure  will 
become  clear  if  we  compare  it  with  that  adopted 
by  the  same  school  of  theorists  when  they  endeavour 
to  explain  the  beauty  of  landscape.  I  do  not  mean 
to  express  any  assent  to  their  account  of  the  causes 
of  our  feelings  for  scenery ;  on  the  contrary,  these 
accounts  seem  to  me  untenable.  But  though  unten- 
able, they  are  not  on  the  face  of  them  inadequate. 
Natural  objects — the  sky  and  hills,  woods  and  waters 
— are  spread  out  before  us  as  they  were  spread  out 
before  our  remotest  ancestors,  and  there  is  no  ob- 
vious absurdity  (if  the  hereditary  transmission  of 
acquired  qualities  be  granted)  in  conceiving  them, 
through  the  secular  experience  of  mankind,  to  be- 
come charged  with  associations  which  reappear  for 
us  in  the  vague  and  massive  form  of  aesthetic  pleas- 
ure. But  according  to  all  association  theories  of 
music,  that  which  is  charged  with  the  raw  material  of 
aesthetic  pleasure  is  not  the  music  we  wish  to  have 
explained,  but  some  primeval  howl,  or  at  best  the 


NATURALISM   AND   .ESTHETIC  41 

unmusical  variations  of  ordinary  speech,  and  no 
solution  whatever  is  offered  of  the  paradox  that  the 
sounds  which  give  musical  delight  have  no  associa- 
tions, and  that  the  sounds  which  had  associations 
give  no  musical  delight. 

It  is,  perhaps,  partly  in  consequence  of  these  or 
analogous  difficulties,  but  mainly  in  consequence  of 
his  views  on  heredity,  which  preclude  him  from 
accepting  any  theory  which  involves  the  transmis- 
sion of  acquired  qualities,  that  Weismann  gives  an 
account  of  the  musical  sense  which  is  practically 
equivalent  to  the  denial  that  any  explanation  of  the 
pleasure  we  derive  from  music  is  possible  at  all. 
For  him,  the  faculties  which  enable  us  to  appreciate 
and  enjoy  music  were  evolved  for  entirely  differ- 
ent purposes,  and  it  is  a  mere  accident  that,  when 
they  come  into  relation  with  certain  combinations 
of  sound,  we  obtain  through  their  means  aesthetic 
gratification.  Mankind,  no  doubt,  are  continually 
inventing  new  musical  devices,  as  they  are  con- 
tinually inventing  new  dishes.  But  as  the  second 
process  implies  an  advance  in  the  art  of  cookery, 
but  no  transmitted  modification  in  the  human  pal- 
ate, so  the  former  implies  musical  progress,  but  no 
change  in  the  innate  capacities  of  successive  genera- 
tions (A  listeners.^ 

'  I  have  made  no  allusion  to  Helmholtz's  classic  investigations, 
for  these  deal  chiefly  with  the  physical  character  of  the  sounds,  or 
combinations  of  sound,  which  give  us  pleasure,  but  do  not  pretend 

fully  to  answer  the  (jucstion  w/iy  they  give  pleasure. 


42  NATURALISM   AND   /ESTHETIC 


II 


This  is,  perhaps,  a  sufficiently  striking  example  of 
the  unsatisfactory  condition  of  scientific  aesthetics, 
and  may  serve  to  show  how  difficult  it  is  to  find  in 
the  opinions  of  different  authorities  a  common  body 
of  doctrine  on  which  to  rest  the  argument  of  this 
chapter.  I  should  imagine,  however,  both  from 
the  speculations  to  which  I  have  just  briefly  ad- 
verted, and  from  any  others  with  which  I  am  ac- 
quainted, that  no  person  who  is  at  all  in  sympathy 
with  the  naturalistic  view  of  things  would  maintain 
that  there  anywhere  exists  an  intrinsic  and  essential 
quality  of  beauty,  independent  of  the  feelings  and 
the  taste  of  the  observer.  The  very  nature,  indeed, 
of  the  senses  principally  engaged  indicates  that  on 
the  naturalistic  hypothesis  they  cannot,  in  most  cases, 
refer  to  any  external  and  permanent  object  of  beauty. 
For  Naturalism  (as  commonly  held)  is  deeply  com- 
mitted to  the  distinction  between  the  primary  and 
the  secondary  qualities  of  matter  ;  the  former  (exten- 
sion, solidity,  and  so  forth)  being  supposed  to  exist  as 
they  are  perceived,  while  the  latter  (such  as  sound  and 
colour)  are  due  to  the  action  of  the  primary  qualities 
upon  the  sentient  organism,  and  apart  from  the  sen- 
tient organism  have  no  independent  being.  Every 
scene  in  Nature,  therefore,  and  every  work  of  art, 
whose  beauty  consists  either  directly  or  indirectly, 
either  presentatively  or  representatively,  in  colour  or 


NATURALISM   AND   /ESTHETIC  43 

in  sound,  has,  and  can  have,  no  more  permanent  exist- 
ence than  is  possessed  by  that  relation  between  the 
senses  and  our  material  environment  which  gave 
them  birth,  and  in  the  absence  of  which  they  perish. 
If  we  could  perceive  the  succession  of  events  which 
constitute  a  sunset  exactly  as  they  occur,  as  they 
are  (physically,  not  metaphysically  speaking)  m 
thcinsiivcs,  they  would,  so  far  as  we  can  guess,  have 
no  ccsthetic  merit,  or  even  meaning.  If  we  could 
perform  the  same  operation  on  a  symphony,  it 
would  end  in  a  like  result.  The  first  would  be  no 
more  than  a  special  agitation  of  the  ether ;  the 
second  would  be  no  more  than  a  special  agitation 
of  the  air.  However  much  they  might  excite  the 
curiosity  of  the  physicist  or  the  mathematician,  for 
the  artist  they  could  no  longer  possess  either  inter- 
est or  significance. 

It  might,  however,  be  said  that  the  Beautiful, 
although  it  cannot  be  called  permanent  as  compared 
with  the  general  framework  of  the  external  world, 
is,  nevertheless,  sufficiently  permanent  for  all  human 
purposes,  in  so  far  as  it  depends  upon  the  fixed  rela- 
tions between  our  senses  and  their  material  sur- 
roundings. Without  at  present  stopping  to  dispute 
this,  let  us  consider  whether  we  have  any  right  to 
suppose  that  even  this  degree  of  '  objectivity '  can 
be  claimed  for  the  quality  of  beauty.  In  order  to 
settle  the  question  we  can,  on  the  naturalistic 
hyi)othesis,  appeal,  it  would  seem,  to  only  one 
authority,     namely,     the     experience    of     mankind. 


44  NATURALISM    AND   ^ESTHETIC 

Does  this,  then,  provide  us  with  any  evidence  that 
beauty  is  more  than  the  name  for  a  miscellaneous 
flux  of  endlessly  varying  causes,  possessing  no 
property  in  common,  except  that  at  some  place,  at 
some  time,  and  in  some  person,  they  have  each 
shown  themselves  able  to  evoke  the  kind  of  feeling 
which  we  choose  to  describe  as  assthetic  ? 

Put  thus  there  seems  room  for  but  one  answer. 
The  variations  of  opinion  on  the  subject  of  beauty 
are  notorious.  Discordant  pronouncements  are 
made  by  different  races,  different  ages,  different 
individuals,  the  same  individual  at  different  times. 
Nor  does  it  seem  possible  to  devise  any  scheme  by 
which  an  authoritative  verdict  can  be  extracted  from 
this  chaos  of  contradiction.  An  appeal,  indeed,  is 
sometimes  made  from  the  opinion  of  the  vulgar  to 
the  decision  of  persons  of  '  trained  sensibility ' ;  and 
there  is  no  doubt  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  through 
the  action  of  those  who  profess  to  belong  to  this 
class,  an  orthodox  tradition  has  grown  up  which 
may  seem  at  first  sight  almost  to  provide  some  faint 
approximation  to  the  '  objective  '  standard  of  which 
we  are  in  search.  Yet  it  will  be  evident  on  con- 
sideration that  it  is  not  simply  on  their  'trained 
sensibility '  that  experts  rely  in  forming  their 
opinion.  The  ordinary  critical  estimate  of  a  work 
of  art  is  the  result  of  a  highly  complicated  set  of 
antecedents,  and  by  no  means  consists  in  a  simple 
and  naked  valuation  of  the  '  aesthetic  thrill  '  which 
the  aforesaid  work  produces  in  the  critic,  now  and 


NATURALISM    AND   /ESTHETIC  45 

here.  If  it  were  so,  .clearly  it  could  not  be  of  any 
importance  to  the  art  critic  when  and  by  whom  any 
particular  work  of  art  was  produced.  Problems  of 
age  and  questions  of  authorship  would  be  left  en- 
tirely to  the  historian,  and  the  student  of  the  beau- 
tiful would,  as  such,  ask  himself  no  question  but 
this :  How  and  why  are  my  aesthetic  sensibilities 
affected  by  this  statue,  poem,  picture,  as  it  is  in 
itself  ?  or  (to  put  the  same  thing  in  a  form  less  open 
to  metaphysical  disputation),  What  would  my  feelings 
towards  it  be  if  I  were  totally  ignorant  of  its  date, 
its  author,  and  the  circumstances  of  its  production  ? 
As  we  all  know,  these  are  considerations  never 
in  practice  ignored  by  the  critic.  He  is  preoccu- 
pied, and  rightly  preoccupied,  by  a  multitude  of 
questions  beyond  the  mere  valuation  of  the  out- 
standing amount  of  aesthetic  enjoyment  which,  in 
the  year  1892,  any  artistic  or  literary  work,  taken 
siinpliciter,  is,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  capable  of  produc- 
ing. He  is  much  concerned  with  its  technical  pecul- 
iarities. He  is  anxious  to  do  justice  to  its  author, 
to  assign  him  his  true  rank  auKjng  the  productive 
geniuses  of  his  age  and  country,  to  make  due  allow- 
ance for  his  *  environment,'  for  the  traditions  in 
which  he  was  nurtured,  for  the  causes  which  make 
his  creative  genius  embody  itself  in  one  form  rather 
than  in  another.  Never  for  one  instant  does  the 
critic  forget,  or  allow  his  reader  to  forget,  that  the 
real  magnitude  of  the  foreshortened  object  under 
observati(3n  must  be  estimated  by  the  rules  of  his- 


46  NATURALISM   AND   /ESTHETIC 

torical  perspective.  Never  does  he  omit,  in  dealing 
with  the  artistic  legacies  of  bygone  times,  to  take 
account  of  any  long -accepted  opinion  which  may 
exist  concerning  them.  He  endeavours  to  make 
himself  the  exponent  of  the  'correct  view.'  His 
judgment  is,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  but  not, 
1  think,  wrongly,  a  sort  of  compromise  between  that 
Avhich  he  would  form  if  he  drew  solely  from  his 
own  inner  experience,  and  that  which  has  been 
formed  for  him  by  the  accumulated  wisdom  of  his 
predecessors  on  the  bench.  He  expounds  case- 
made  law.  He  is  partly  the  creature  and  partly  the 
creator  of  a  critical  tradition  ;  and  we  can  easily 
conjecture  how  devious  his  course  would  be,  were 
his  orbit  not  largely  controlled  by  the  attraction  of 
received  views,  if  we  watch  the  disastrous  fate 
which  so  often  overtakes  him  when  he  pronounces 
judgment  on  new  works,  or  on  works  of  which 
there  is  no  estimate  embodied  in  any  literary  creed 
which  he  thinks  it  necessary  to  respect.  Voltaire's 
opinion  of  Shakespeare  does  not  make  one  think 
less  of  Voltaire,  but  it  throws  an  interesting  light 
on  the  genesis  of  average  critical  decisions  and  the 
normal  growth  of  taste. 

From  these  considerations,  which  might  easily 
be  supplemented,  it  seems  plain  that  the  opinions  of 
critical  experts  represent,  not  an  objective  standard, 
if  such  a  thing  there  be,  but  an  historical  compro- 
mise. The  agreement  among  them,  so  far  as  such  a 
thing  is  to  be  found,  is  not  due  solely  to  the  fact 


NATURALISM   AND   .-ESTHETIC  47 

that  with  their  own  eyes  they  all  see  the  same 
things,  and  therefore  say  the  same  things ;  it  is  not 
whoU}'  the  result  of  a  common  experience  :  it  arises 
in  no  small  measure  from  their  sympathetic  endeav- 
ours to  see  as  others  have  seen,  to  feel  as  others 
have  felt,  to  judge  as  others  have  judged.  This 
may  be,  and  I  suppose  is,  the  fairest  way  of  compar- 
ing the  merits  of  deceased  artists.  But,  at  the  same 
time,  it  makes  it  impossible  for  us  to  attach  much 
weight  to  the  assumed  consensus  of  the  ages,  or  to 
suppose  that  this,  so  far  as  it  exists,  implies  the 
realit}^  of  a  standard  independent  of  the  varying 
wliims  and  fancies  of  individual  critics.  In  truth, 
however,  the  consensus  of  the  ages,  even  about  the 
greatest  works  of  creative  genius,  is  not  only  in  part 
due  to  the  process  of  critical  manufacture  indicated 
above,  but  its  whole  scope  and  magnitude  is  ab- 
surdly exaggerated  in  the  phrases  wdiich  pass  cur- 
rent on  the  subject.  This  is  not  a  question,  be  it 
observed,  of  aesthetic  right  and  wrong,  of  good  taste 
or  bad  taste;  it  is  a  question  of  statistics.  We  are 
not  here  concerned  with  what  the  mass  of  mankind, 
even  of  educated  mankind,  ought  to  feel,  but  with 
what  as  a  matter  of  fact  they  do  feel,  about  the 
works  of  literature  and  art  which  they  have  inher- 
ited from  the  past.  And  I  believe  that  every  im- 
partial observer  will  admit  that,  of  the  aesthetic 
emotion  actually  experienced  by  any  generation,  the 
merest  fraction  is  due  to  the  'immortal '  productions 
of   the   generations    which   have  long    pixccded    it. 


48  NATURALISM   AND   ESTHETIC 

Their  immortality  is  largely  an  immortality  of 
libraries  and  museums ;  they  supply  material  to 
critics  and  historians,  rather  than  enjoyment  to 
mankind  ;  and  if  it  were  to  be  maintained  that  one 
music-hall  song  gives  more  aesthetic  pleasure  in  a 
night  than  the  most  exquisite  compositions  of  Pales- 
trina  in  a  decade,  I  know  not  how  the  proposition 
could  be  refuted. 

The  ancient  Norsemen  supposed  that  besides  the 
soul  of  the  dead,  which  went  to  the  region  of  de- 
parted spirits,  there  survived  a  ghost,  haunting, 
though  not  for  ever,  the  scenes  of  his  earthly  la- 
bours. At  first  vivid  and  almost  lifelike,  it  slowly 
waned  and  faded,  until  at  length  it  vanished,  leav- 
ing behind  it  no  trace  or  memory  of  its  spectral 
presence  amidst  the  throng  of  living  men.  So,  it 
seems  to  me,  is  the  immortality  we  glibly  predicate 
of  departed  artists.  If  they  survive  at  all,  it  is  but 
a  shadowy  life  they  live,  moving  on  through  the 
gradations  of  slow  decay  to  distant  but  inevitable 
death.  They  can  no  longer,  as  heretofore,  speak 
directly  to  the  hearts  of  their  fellow-men,  evoking 
their  tears  or  laughter,  and  all  the  pleasures,  be 
they  sad  or  merry,  of  which  imagination  holds  the 
secret.  Driven  from  the  market-place,  they  become 
first  the  companions  of  the  student,  then  the  victims 
of  the  specialist.  He  who  would  still  hold  familiar 
intercourse  with  them  must  train  himself  to  pene- 
trate the  veil  which,  in  ever-thickening  folds,  con- 
ceals them  from  the  ordinary  gaze ;  he  must  catch 


NATURALISM   AND   .ESTHETIC  49 

the  tone  of  a  vanished  society,  he  must  move  in  a 
circle  of  alien  associations,  he  must  think  in  a  lan- 
guage not  his  own.  Need  we,  then,  wonder  that 
under  such  conditions  the  outfit  of  a  critic  is  as 
much  intellectual  as  emotional,  or  that  if  from  off 
the  complex  sentiments  wuth  which  they  regard  the 
'  immortal  legacies  of  the  past '  we  strip  all  that  is 
due  to  interests  connected  with  history,  with  biog- 
raphy, with  critical  analyses,  with  scholarship,  and 
with  technique,  but  a  small  modicum  will,  as  a  rule, 
remain  which  can  with  justice  be  attributed  to  pure 
aesthetic  sensibility. 

Ill 

I  have,  however,  no  intention  of  implying  by  the 
preceding  observations  that  the  aesthetic  feelings 
of  '  the  vulgar  '  are  less  sophisticated  than  those  of 
the  learned.  A  very  cursory  examination  of  '  public 
taste'  and  its  revolutions  may  suf^ce  to  convince 
anyone  of  the  contrary.  And,  in  the  first  place,  let 
us  ask  why  every  '  public'  has  a  taste?  And  why, 
at  least  in  Western  communities,  that  taste  is  so  apt 
to  alter?  Why,  in  other  words,  do  communities  or 
sections  of  communities  so  often  feel  the  same  thing 
at  the  same  time,  and  so  often  feel  different  things  at 
different  times?  Why  is  there  so  muirh  uniformity, 
and  why  is  there  so  much  change  ? 

These  questions  are  of  great  interest,  although 
they  have  not,  perhaps,  met  with  all  the  attention 
4 


50  NATURALISM    AND   yESTHETIC 

they  deserve.  In  these  Notes  it  would  not  be  fitting 
to  attempt  to  deal  with  them  at  length,  and  I  shall 
only  offer  observations  on  two  points  which  seem 
relevant  to  the  design  of  the  present  chapter. 

The  question  of  Uniformity  is  best  approached 
at  the  humbler  end  of  the  aesthetic  scale,  in  connec- 
tion, not  with  art  in  its  narrower  and  loftier  sense, 
but  with  dress.  Everybody  is  acquainted,  either 
by  observation  or  by  personal  experience,  with  the 
coercive  force  of  fashion ;  but  not  everybody  is 
aware  what  an  instructive  and  interesting  phenom- 
enon it  presents.  Consider  the  case  of  bonnets. 
During  the  same  season  all  persons  belonging,  or 
aspiring  to  belong,  to  the  same  '  public,'  if  they  wear 
bonnets  at  all,  wear  bonnets  modelled  on  the  same 
type.  Why  do  they  do  this?  If  we  were  asking  a 
similar  question,  not  about  bonnets,  but  about  steam- 
engines,  the  answer  would  be  plain.  People  tend 
at  the  same  date  to  use  the  same  kind  of  engine  for 
the  same  kind  of  purpose  because  it  is  the  best  avail- 
able. They  change  their  practice  when  a  better  one 
is  invented.  But  as  so  used  the  words  '  better'  and 
'  best '  have  no  application  to  modern  dress.  Neither 
efficiency  nor  economy,  it  will  at  once  be  admitted, 
supply  the  grounds  of  choice  or  the  motives  for 
variation. 

If,  again,  we  were  asking  the  question  about  some 
great  phase  of  art,  we  should  probably  be  told  that 
the  general  acceptance  of  it  by  a  whole  generation 
was  due  to  some  important  combination  of  historic 


NATURALISM   AND   /ESTHETIC  5 1 

causes,  acting  alike  on  artist  and  on  public.  Such 
causes  no  doubt  exist  and  have  existed  ;  but  the  case 
of  fashion  proves  that  uniformity  is  not  produced  by 
them  alone,  since  it  will  hardly  be  pretended  that 
there  is  any  widely  diffused  cause  in  the  social 
environment,  except  the  coercive  operation  of  fash- 
ion itself,  which  should  make  the  bonnets  which 
were  thought  becoming  in  1881  unbecoming  in  the 
year  1892. 

•  Again,  we  might  be  told  that  art  contains  essen- 
tial principles  of  self-development,  which  require  one 
productive  phase  to  succeed  another  by  a  kind  of 
inner  necessity,  and  determine  not  merely  that  there 
shall  be  variation,  but  what  that  variation  shall  be. 
This  also  may  be,  and  is,  in  a  certain  sense,  true. 
But  it  can  hardly  be  supposed  that  we  can  explain 
the  fashions  which  prevail  in  any  year  by  assuming, 
not  merely  that  the  fashions  of  the  previous  years 
were  foredoomed  to  change,  but  also  that,  in  the  na- 
ture of  the  case,  only  one  change  was  possible,  that, 
namely,  which  actually  took  place.  Such  a  doctrine 
would  be  equivalent  to  sa3'ing  that  if  all  the  bonnet- 
wearers  were  for  a  space  deprived  of  any  knowledge 
of  each  other's  proceedings  (all  other  things  remain- 
ing the  same),  they  would,  on  the  resumption  of  their 
ordinary  intercourse,  find  that  they  had  all  inclined 
towards  much  the  same  modification  of  the  type  of 
bonnet  prevalent  before  their  separation  —  a  con- 
clusion which  seems  to  me,  I  confess,  to  be  some- 
what improbable. 


52  NATURALISM   AND    ESTHETIC 

It  may  perhaps  be  hazarded,  as  a  further  expla- 
nation, that  this  uniformity  of  practice  is  indeed  a  fact, 
and  is  really  produced  by  a  complex  group  of  causes 
which  we  denominate  '  fashion,'  but  that  it  is  a 
uniformity  of  practice  alone,  not  of  taste  or  feeling, 
and  has  no  real  relation  to  any  aesthetic  problem 
whatever.  This  is  a  question  the  answer  to  which 
can  be  supplied,  I  apprehend,  by  observation  alone  ; 
and  the  answer  which  observation  enables  us  to  give 
seems  to  me  quite  unambiguous.  If,  as  is  possi- 
ble, my  readers  have  but  small  experience  in  such 
matters  themselves,  let  them  examine  the  experi- 
ences of  their  acquaintance.  They  will  find,  if  I 
mistake  not,  that  by  whatever  means  conformity  to 
a  particular  pattern  may  have  been  brought  about, 
those  who  conform  are  not,  as  a  rule,  conscious  of 
coercion  by  an  external  and  arbitrary  authority. 
They  do  not  act  under  penalty  ;  they  yield  no  un- 
willing obedience.  On  the  contrary,  their  admira- 
tion for  a  *  well-dressed  person,'  gud  well-dressed,  is 
at  least  as  genuine  an  aesthetic  approval  as  any  they 
are  in  the  habit  of  expressing  for  other  forms  of 
beauty  ;  just  as  their  objection  to  an  outworn  fash- 
ion is  based  on  a  perfectly  genuine  aesthetic  dislike. 
They  are  repelled  by  the  unaccustomed  sight,  as  a 
reader  of  discrimination  is  repelled  by  turgidity  or 
false  pathos.  It  appears  to  them  ugly,  even  gro- 
tesque, and  they  turn  from  it  with  an  aversion  as 
disinterested,  as  unperturbed  by  personal  or  '  so- 
ciety '  considerations,  as  if  they  were  critics  contem- 


NATURALISM   AND   .^lSTHETIC  53 

plating  the   production    of  some   pretender  in    the 
region  of  Great  x\rt. 

In  truth  this  tendency  in  matters  aesthetic  is  only 
a  particular  case  of  a  general  tendency  to  agreement 
which  plays  an  even  more  important  part  in  other 
departments  of  human  activity.  Its  operation,  bench- 
cent  doubtless  on  the  whole,  may  be  traced  through 
all  social  and  political  life.  We  owe  to  it  in  part 
that  deep-lying  likeness  in  tastes,  in  opinions,  and  in 
habits,  without  which  cohesion  among  the  individ- 
ual units  of  a  community  would  be  impossible,  and 
which  constitutes  the  unmoved  platform  on  which 
we  fight  out  our  political  battles.  It  is  no  contemp- 
tible factor  among  the  forces  by  which  nations  are 
created  and  religions  disseminated  and  maintained. 
It  is  the  very  breath  of  life  to  sects  and  coteries. 
Sometimes,  no  doubt,  its  results  are  ludicrous. 
Sometimes  they  are  unfortunate.  Sometimes  merely 
insijrnificant.  Under  which  of  these  heads  we  should 
class  our  ever-changing  uniformity  in  dress  I  will 
not  take  upon  me  to  determine.  It  is  sutificient  for 
my  present  purpose  to  point  out  that  the  assthetic 
likings  which  fashion  originates,  however  trivial,  are 
l)crfectly  genuine ;  and  that  to  an  origin  similar  in 
kind,  however  different  in  dignity  and  permanence, 
should  be  traced  much  of  the  characteristic  quality 
which  gives  its  special  flavour  to  the  higher  artistic 
sentiments  of  each  successive  {generation. 


54  NATURALISM   AND   ESTHETIC 


IV 

It  is,  of  course,  true  that  this  '  tendency  to  agree- 
ment,' ^  this  principle  of  drill,  cannot  itself  determine 
the  objects  in  respect  of  which  the  agreement  is  to 
take  place.  It  can  do  much  to  make  every  member 
of  a  particular  '  public '  like  the  same  bonnet,  or  the 
same  epic,  at  the  same  time ;  but  it  cannot  deter- 
mine what  that  bonnet  or  that  epic  is  to  be.  A 
fashion,  as  the  phrase  goes,  has  to  be  '  set,*  and  the 
persons  who  set  it  manifestly  do  not  follow  it.  What, 
then,  do  they  follow  ?  We  note  the  influences  that 
move  the  flock.     What  moves  the  bell-wether? 

Here  again  much  might  conveniently  be  learnt 
from  an  examination  of  fashion  and  its  changes,  for 
these  provide  us  with  a  field  of  research  where  we 
are  disturbed  by  no  preconceived  theories  or  incon- 
venient admirations,  and  where  we  may  dissect  our 
subject  with  the  cold  impartiality  which  befits 
scientific  investigation.  The  reader,  however,  may 
think  that  enough  has  been  done  already  by  this 
method ;  and  I  shall  accordingly  pursue  a  more 
general  treatment  of  the  subject,  premising  that  in 
the    brief   observations  which   follow  no   complete 

'  Of  course  the  '  tendency  to  agreement '  is  not  presented  to  the 
reader  as  a  simple,  undecomposable  social  force.  It  is,  doubtless, 
highly  complex,  one  of  its  most  important  elements  being,  I  sup- 
pose, the  instinct  of  uncritical  imitation,  which  is  the  very  basis  of  all 
effective  education.  The  line  of  thought  hinted  at  in  this  paragraph 
is  pursued  much  further  in  the  Third  Part  of  this  Essay. 


NATURALISM   AND   .ESTHETIC  55 

analysis  of  the  complexity  of  concrete  Nature  is 
attempted,  or  is,  indeed,  necessary  for  my  purpose. 

It  will  be  convenient,  in  the  first  place,  to  dis- 
tinguish between  the  mode  in  which  the  public  who 
enjoy,  and  the  artists  who  produce,  respectively 
promote  aesthetic  change.  That  the  public  arc  often 
weary  and  expectant — weary  of  what  is  provided  for 
them,  and  expectant  of  some  good  thing  to  come — 
will  hardly  be  denied.  Yet  I  do  not  think  they  can 
be  usually  credited  with  the  conscious  demand  for  a 
fresh  artistic  development.  For  though  they  often 
want  some  new  thing,  they  do  not  often  want  a  iiciu 
kind  of  thing;  and  accordingly  it  commonly,  though 
not  invariably,  happens  that,  when  the  new  thing 
appears,  it  is  welcomed  at  first  by  the  few,  and  only 
gradually  —  by  the  force  of  fashion  and  otherwise 
— conquers  the  genuine  admiration  of  the  many. 

The  artist,  on  the  other  hand,  is  moved  in  no 
small  measure  by  a  desire  that  his  work  should  be 
his  own,  no  pale  reflection  of  another's  methods, 
but  an  expression  of  himself  in  his  own  language. 
He  will  vary  for  the  better  if  he  can,  yet,  rather  than 
be  conscious  of  repetition,  he  will  vary  for  the  worse  ; 
for  vary  he  must,  either  in  substance  or  in  form, 
unless  he  is  to  be  in  his  own  eyes,  not  a  creator,  but 
an  imitator ;  not  an  artist,  but  a  copyist.^ 

It    \\'\\\   be   observed    that    I   am   not  obliged  to 

'  No  doubt  it  is  an  echo  of  tliis  feelin,i»-  that  makes  purchasers 
invariably  prefer  a  bad  orit^inal  to  the  best  copy  of  the  best  original — 
a  preference  which  in  argument  it  would  be  exceedingly  difficult  to 
justify. 


56  NATURALISM   AND   .ESTHETIC 

draw  the  dividing-line  between  originality  and  pla- 
giarism ;  to  distinguish  between  the  man  who  is  one 
of  a  school,  and  the  man  who  has  done  no  more 
than  merely  catch  the  trick  of  a  master.  It  is 
enough  that  the  artist  himself  draws  the  distinction, 
and  will  never  consciously  allow  himself  to  sink  from 
the  first  category  into  the  second. 

We  have  here,  then,  a  general  cause  of  change, 
but  not  a  cause  of  change  in  any  particular  direction, 
or  of  any  particular  amount.  These  I  believe  to  be 
determined  in  part  by  the  relation  between  the 
artists  and  the  public  for  whom  they  produce,  and  in 
part  by  the  condition  of  the  art  itself  at  the  time  the 
change  occurs.  As  regards  the  first,  it  is  commonly 
said  that  the  artist  is  the  creation  of  his  age,  and  the 
discovery  of  this  fact  is  sometimes  thought  to  be  a 
momentous  contribution  made  by  science  to  the 
theory  of  aesthetic  evolution.  The  statement,  how- 
ever, is  unfortunately  worded.  The  action  of  the 
age  is,  no  doubt,  important,  but  it  would  be  more 
accurate,  I  imagine,  to  describe  it  as  destructive 
than  as  creative ;  it  does  not  so  much  produce  as 
select.  It  is  true,  of  course,  that  the  influence  of 
'  the  environment '  in  moulding,  developing,  and 
stimulating  genius  within  the  limits  of  its  original 
capacity  is  very  great,  and  may  seem,  especially  in 
the  humbler  walks  of  artistic  production,  to  be  all- 
powerful.  But  innate  and  original  genius  is  not  the 
creation  of  any  age.  It  is  a  biological  accident,  the 
incalculable  product  of   two  sets  of    ancestral  ten- 


NATURALISM    AND    /ESTHETIC  57 

dencies ;  and  what  the  age  docs  to  these  biological 
accidents  is  not  to  create  them,  but  to  choose  from 
them,  to  encourage  those  which  are  in  harmony  with 
its  spirit,  to  crush  out  and  to  sterilise  the  rest.  Its 
action  is  analogous  to  that  which  a  plot  of  ground 
exercises  on  the  seeds  which  fall  upon  it.  Some 
thrive,  some  languish,  some  die;  and  the  resulting 
vegetation  is  sliarply  chai'acteriscd,  not  because  few 
kinds  of  seed  have  there  sown  themscLes,  but 
because  few  kinds  have  been  allowed  to  grow  up. 
Without  pushing  the  parallel  too  far,  it  may  yet 
serve  to  illustrate  the  truth  that,  as  a  stained  win- 
dow derives  its  character  and  significance  from  the 
absorption  of  a  large  portion  of  the  rays  which 
endeavour  to  pass  through  it,  so  an  age  is  what  it  is, 
not  only  by  reason  of  what  it  fosters,  but  as  much, 
perhaps,  by  reason  of  what  it  destroys.  We  may  con- 
ceive, then,  that  from  the  total  but  wholly  unknown 
number  of  men  of  productive  capacity  born  in  any 
generation,  those  whose  gifts  are  in  harmony  with 
the  tastes  of  their  contemporaries  will  produce  their 
best;  those  whose  gifts  are  wholly  out  of  harmony 
will  be  extinguished,  or,  which  is  very  nearly  the 
same  thing,  will  produce  only  for  the  benefit  of  the 
critics  in  succeeding  generations ;  while  those  who 
occupy  an  intermediate  position  will,  indeed,  produce, 
but  their  powers  will,  consciously  or  unconsciously, 
be  warped  and  thwarted,  and  their  creations  fall  short 
of  what,  under  happier  circumstances,  they  might 
have  been  able  to  achieve. 


58  NATURALISM   AND   /ESTHETIC 

Here,  then,  we  have  a  tendency  to  change  aris- 
ing out  of  the  artist's  insistence  on  originality,  and 
a  limitation  on  change  imposed  by  the  character 
of  the  age  in  which  he  lives.  The  kind  of  change 
will  be  largely  determined  by  the  condition  of 
the  art  which  he  is  practising.  If  it  be  in  an 
early  phase,  full  as  yet  of  undeveloped  possibili- 
ties, then  in  all  probability  he  will  content  him- 
self with  improving  on  his  predecessors,  without 
widely  deviating  from  the  lines  they  have  laid 
down.  For  this  is  the  direction  of  least  resistance  : 
here  is  no  public  taste  to  be  formed,  here  are  no 
great  experiments  to  be  tried,  here  the  pioneer's 
rough  work  of  discovery  has  already  been  accom- 
plished. But  if  this  particular  fashion  of  art  has 
culminated,  and  be  in  its  decline ;  if,  that  is  to  say, 
the  artist  feels  more  and  more  difficulty  in  express- 
ing himself  through  it,  without  saying  worse  what 
his  predecessors  have  said  already,  then  one  of 
three  things  happens — either  originality  is  perforce 
sought  for  in  exaggeration ;  or  a  new  style  is 
invented ;  or  artistic  creation  is  abandoned  and  the 
field  is  given  up  to  mere  copyists.  Which  of  these 
events  shall  happen  depends,  no  doubt,  partly  on 
the  accident  of  genius,  but  it  depends,  I  think,  still 
more  on  the  prevailing  taste.  If,  as  has  frequently 
happened,  that  taste  be  dominated  by  the  memory 
of  past  ideals  ;  if  the  little  public  whom  the  big 
public  follow  are  content  with  nothing  that  does 
not  conform  to  certain  ancient  models,  a  period  of 


NATURALISM   AND   .-ESTHETIC  59 

artistic  sterility  is  inevitable.  But  if  circumstances 
be  more  propitious,  then  art  continues  to  move ; 
the  direction  and  charticter  of  its  movement  being 
due  partly  to  the  special  turn  of  genius  possessed 
by  the  artist  who  succeeds  in  producing  a  public 
taste  in  harmony  with  his  powers,  and  partly  to  the 
reaction  of  the  taste  thus  created,  or  in  process  of 
creation,  upon  the  general  artistic  talent  of  the 
community. 

Even,  however,  in  those  periods  when  the 
movement  of  art  is  most  striking,  it  is  dangerous 
to  assume  that  movement  implies  progress,  if  by 
progress  be  meant  increase  in  the  poiver  to  excite 
cesthetic  emotion.  It  would  be  rash  to  assume  this 
even  as  regards  Music,  where  the  movement  has 
been  more  remarkable,  more  continuous,  and  more 
apparently  progressive  over  a  long  period  of  time 
than  in  any  other  art  whatever.  In  music,  the 
artist's  desire  for  originality  of  expression  has  been 
aided  generation  after  generation  by  the  discovery 
of  new  methods,  new  forms,  new  instruments.  From 
the  bare  simplicity  of  the  ecclesiastical  chant  or  the 
village  dance  to  the  ordered  complexity  of  the  modern 
score,  the  art  has  passed  through  successive  stages 
of  development,  in  each  of  which  genius  has  dis- 
covered devices  of  harmony,  devices  of  instrumenta- 
tion, and  devices  of  rhythm  which  would  have  been 
musical  paradoxes  to  preceding  generations,  and 
became  musical  commonplaces  to  the  generations 
that   followed   after.     Yet,  what  has  been    the   net 


6o  NATURALISM   AND   /ESTHETIC 

gain  ?  Read  through  the  long  catena  of  critical 
judgments,  from  Wagner  back  (if  you  please)  to 
Plato,  which  ever}^  age  has  passed  on  its  own  per- 
formances, and  you  will  find  that  to  each  of  them 
its  music  has  been  as  adequate  as  ours  is  to  us.  It 
moved  them  not  less  deeply,  nor  did  it  move  them 
differently ;  and  compositions  which  for  us  have 
lost  their  magic,  and  which  we  regard  as  at  best 
but  agreeable  curiosities,  contained  for  them  the 
secret  of  all  the  unpictured  beauties  which  music 
shows  to  her  worshippers. 

Surely  there  is  here  a  great  paradox.  The 
history  of  Literature  and  Art  is  tolerably  well  known 
to  us  for  many  hundreds  of  years.  During  that 
period  Poetry  and  Sculpture  and  Painting  have 
been  subject  to  the  usual  mutations  of  fashion  ;  there 
have  been  seasons  of  sterility  and  seasons  of  plenty ; 
schools  have  arisen  and  decayed ;  new  nations  and 
languages  have  been  pressed  into  the  service  of  Art; 
old  nations  have  fallen  out  of  line.  But  it  is  not 
commonly  supposed  that  at  the  end  of  it  all  vt^e 
are  much  better  off  than  the  Greeks  of  the  age  of 
Pericles  in  respect  of  the  technical  dexterity  of  the 
artist,  or  of  the  resources  which  he  has  at  his  com- 
mand. During  the  same  period,  and  measured  by  the 
same  external  standard,  the  development  of  Music 
has  been  so  great  that  it  is  not,  I  think,  easy  to  exag- 
gerate it.  Yet,  through  all  this  vast  revolution,  the 
position  and  importance  of  the  art  as  compared  with 
other  arts  seems,  so  far  as  I  can  discover,  to  have 


NATURALISM   AND   .ESTHETIC  6 1 

suffered  no  sensible  change.  It  was  as  great  four 
hundred  years  before  Christ  as  it  is  at  the  present 
moment.  It  was  as  great  in  the  sixteenth,  seven- 
teenth, and  eighteenth  centuries  as  it  is  in  the  nine- 
teenth. How,  then,  can  we  resist  the  conclusion 
that  this  amazing  musical  development,  produced 
b}'  the  expenditure  of  so  much  genius,  has  added 
little  to  the  felicity  of  mankind ;  unless,  indeed,  it 
so  happens  that  in  his  particular  art  a  steady  level 
of  ^Esthetic  sensation  can  only  be  maintained  by 
increasinsf  doses  of  ^esthetic  stimulant. 


These  somewhat  desultory  observations  do  not, 
it  must  be  acknowledged,  carry  us  very  far  towards 
that  of  which  we  are  in  search,  namely,  a  theory 
of  aesthetics  in  harmony  with  naturalism.  Yet,  on 
recapitulation,  negative  conclusions  of  some  impor- 
tance will,  I  think,  be  seen  to  follow  from  them.  It 
is  clear,  for  instance,  that  those  who,  like  Goethe, 
long  to  dwell  among  '  permanent  relations,'  wherever 
else  they  may  find  them,  will  at  least  not  find  them  in 
or  behind  the  feeling  of  beaut)^  Such  permanent 
relations  do,  indeed,  exist,  binding  in  their  unchang- 
ing framework  the  various  forms  of  energy  and 
matter  which  make  up  the  })hysical  universe;  but 
it  is  not  the  percepti(;n  oi  these  which,  either  in 
Nature  or  in  art,  stirs  within  us  aesthetic  emotion — 
else  sliouhl  wc  lind  our  surest  guides  to  beauty  in 


62  NATURALISM   AND   .ESTHETIC 

an  astronomical  chart  or  table  of  chemical  equiva- 
lents, and  nothing  would  seem  to  us  of  less  ses- 
thetic  significance  than  a  symphony  or  a  love-song. 
That  which  is  beautiful  is  not  the  object  as  we 
know  it  to  be — the  vibrating  molecule  and  the  un- 
dulating ether — but  the  object  as  we  know  it  not 
to  be — glorious  with  qualities  of  colour  or  of  sound. 
Nor  can  its  beauty  be  supposed  to  last  any  longer 
than  the  transient  reaction  between  it  and  our  spe- 
cial senses,  which  are  assuredly  not  permanent  or 
important  elements  in  the  constitution  of  the  world 
in  which  we  live. 

But  even  within  these  narrow  limits — narrow,  I 
mean,  compared  with  the  wide  sweep  of  our  scientific 
vision — there  seemed  to  be  no  ground  for  supposing 
that  there  is  in  Nature  any  standard  of  beauty  to 
which  all  human  tastes  tend  to  conform,  any  beauti- 
ful objects  which  all  normally  constituted  individuals 
are  moved  to  admire,  any  aesthetic  judgments  which 
can  claim  to  be  universal.  The  divergence  between 
different  tastes  is,  indeed,  not  only  notorious,  but  is 
what  we  should  have  expected.  As  our  aesthetic 
feelings  are  not  due  to  natural  selection,  natural  se- 
lection will  have  no  tendency  to  keep  them  uni- 
form and  stable.  In  this  respect  they  differ,  as  I 
have  said,  from  ethical  sentiments  and  beliefs.  De^ 
viations  from  sound  morality  are  injurious  either 
to  the  individual  or  to  the  community — those  who 
indulge  in  them  are  at  a  disadvantage  in  the  struggle 
for  existence ;  hence,  on  the  naturalistic  hypothesis, 


NATURALISM    AND    /ESTHETIC  6t, 

the  approximation  to  identity  in  the  accepted  codes 
of  different  nations.  But  there  is,  fortunately,  no 
natural  punishment  annexed  to  bad  taste;  and  ac- 
cordingly the  variation  between  tastes  has  passed 
into  a  proverb. 

Even  in  those  cases  where  some  slender  thread 
of  similarity  seemed  to  bind  together  the  tastes  of 
different  times  or  different  persons,  further  con- 
sideration showed  that  this  was  largely  due  to 
causes  which  can  by  no  possibility  be  connected 
with  any  supposed  permanent  element  in  beauty. 
The  agreement,  for  example,  between  critics,  in  so 
far  as  it  exists,  is  to  no  small  extent  an  agreement 
in  statement  and  in  analysis,  rather  than  an  agree- 
ment in  feeling ;  they  have  the  same  opinion  as  to 
the  cooking  of  the  dinner,  but  they  by  no  means  all 
eat  it  with  the  same  relish.  In  few  cases,  indeed, 
do  their  estimates  of  excellence  correspond  with  the 
living  facts  of  aesthetic  emotion  as  shown  either  in 
themselves  or  in  anybody  else.  Their  whole  pro- 
cedure, necessary  though  it  may  be  for  the  compara- 
tive estimate  of  the  worth  of  individual  artists,  unduly 
conceals  the  vast  and  arbitrary^  changes  by  which 
the  taste  of  one  generation  is  divided  from  that  of 
another.  And  when  we  turn  from  critical  tradi- 
tion to  the  aesthetic  likes  and  dislikes  of  men  and 
women ;  when  we  leave  the  admirations  which  are 
professed  for  the  emotions  which  are  felt,  we  find 

'  'Arbitrary,'  i.e.  not  due  to  any  causes  which  point  to  the  ex- 
istence of  objective  beauty. 


64  NATURALISM   AND   ESTHETIC 

in  vast  multitudes  of  cases  that  these  are  not  con- 
nected with  the  object  which  happens  to  excite  them 
by  any  permanent  aesthetic  bond  at  all.  Their  true 
determining  cause  is  to  be  sought  in  fashion,  in  that 
*  tendency  to  agreement '  which  plays  so  large,  and 
on  the  whole  so  useful,  a  part  in  social  economy. 
Nor,  in  considering  the  causes  which  produce  the 
rise  and  fall  of  schools,  and  all  the  smaller  muta- 
tions in  the  character  of  aesthetic  production,  did 
we  perceive  more  room  for  the  belief  that  there  is 
somewhere  to  be  found  a  permanent  element  in  the 
beautiful.  There  is  no  evidence  that  these  changes 
constitute  stages  in  any  process  of  gradual  approxi- 
mation to  an  unchanging  standard  ;  they  are  not 
born  of  any  strivings  after  some  ideal  archetype  ; 
they  do  not,  like  the  movements  of  science,  bring 
us  ever  nearer  to  central  and  immutable  truth.  On 
the  contrary,  though  schools  are  born,  mature,  and 
perish,  though  ancient  forms  decay,  and  new  ones 
are  continually  devised,  this  restless  movement  is, 
so  far  as  science  can  pronounce,  without  meaning 
or  purpose,  the  casual  product  of  the  quest  after 
novelty,  determined  in  its  course  by  incalculable 
forces,  by  accidents  of  genius,  by  accidents  of  public 
humour,  involving  change  but  not  progress,  and 
predestined,  perhaps,  to  end  universally,  as  at  many 
times  and  in  many  places  it  has  ended  alread3%  in  a 
mood  of  barren  acquiescence  in  the  repetition  of 
ancient  models,  the  very  Nirvana  of  artistic  imagi- 
nation, without  desire  and  without  pain. 


NATURALISM   AND   AESTHETIC  65 

And  yet  the  persistent  and  almost  pathetic 
endeavours  of  aesthetic  theory  to  show  that  the 
beautiful  is  a  necessary  and  unchanging  element  in 
the  general  scheme  of  things,  if  they  prove  nothing 
else,  may  at  least  convince  us  that  mankind  will  not 
easily  reconcile  themselves  to  the  view  which  the 
naturalistic  theory  of  the  world  would  seemingl}^ 
compel  them  to  accept.  We  need  feel  no  difficult}-, 
perhaps,  in  admitting  the  full  consequences  of  that 
theory  at  the  lower  end  of  the  aesthetic  scale,  in 
the  region,  for  instance,  of  bonnets  and  wall-papers. 
We  may  tolerate  it  even  when  it  deals  with  impor- 
tant elements  in  the  highest  art,  such  as  the  sense 
of  technical  excellence,  or  sympathy  with  the  crafts- 
man's skill.  But  when  we  look  back  on  those  too 
rare  moments  when  feelings  stirred  in  us  by  some 
beautiful  object  not  only  seem  wholly  to  absorb  us, 
but  to  raise  us  to  the  vision  of  things  far  above  the 
ken  of  bodily  sense  or  discursive  reason,  we  cannot 
acquiesce  in  any  attempt  at  explanation  which  con- 
fines itself  to  the  bare  enumeration  of  psychological 
and  physiological  causes  and  effects.  We  cannot 
willingly  assent  to  a  theory  which  makes  a  good 
composer  only  differ  from  a  good  cook  in  that  he 
deals  in  more  complicated  relations,  moves  in  a 
wider  circle  of  associations,  and  arouses  our  feel- 
ings through  a  different  sense.  However  little, 
therefore,  we  may  be  prepared  to  accept  any  par- 
ticular scheme  of  metaphysical  aesthetics — and  most 
of  these  appear  to  me  to  be  very  absurd — we  must 
5 


66  NATURALISM    AND   ESTHETIC 

believe  that  somewhere  and  for  some  Being  there 
shines  an  unchanging  splendour  of  beauty,  of  which 
in  Nature  and  in  Art  we  see,  each  of  us  from  our 
own  standpoint,  only  passing  gleams  and  stray  reflec- 
tions, whose  different  aspects  we  cannot  now  co- 
ordinate, whose  import  we  cannot  fully  comprehend, 
but  which  at  least  is  something  other  than  the  chance 
play  of  subjective  sensibility  or  the  far-off  echo  of 
ancestral  lusts.  No  such  mystical  creed  can,  how- 
ever, be  squeezed  out  of  observation  and  experi- 
ment ;  Science  cannot  give  it  us ;  nor  can  it  be 
forced  into  any  sort  of  consistency  with  the  Nat- 
uralistic Theory  of  the  Universe. 


CHAPTER  III 

NATURALISM   AND   REASON 


Among  those  who  accept  without  substantial  modi- 
iication  the  naturalistic  theory  of  the  universe  are 
some  who  find  a  compensation  for  the  general  non- 
rationality  of  Nature  in  the  fact  that,  after  all,  rea- 
son, human  reason,  is  Nature's  final  product.  If  the 
world  is  not  made  by  Reason,  Reason  is  at  all 
events  made  by  the  world  ;  and  the  unthinking  in- 
teraction of  causes  and  effects  has  at  least  resulted 
in  a  consciousness  wherein  that  interaction  may  be 
reflected  and  understood.  This  is  not  Teleology. 
Indeed  it  is  a  doctrine  which  leaves  no  room  for  any 
belief  in  design.  But  in  the  minds  of  some  who 
have  but  imperfectly  grasped  their  own  doctrines, 
it  appears  capable  of  partially  meeting  the  senti- 
mental needs  to  which  teleology  gives  a  fuller  satis- 
faction, inasmuch  as  reason  thus  finds  an  assured 
place  in  the  scheme  of  things,  and  is  enabled,  after 
the  fashion  of  the  Chinese,  in  some  sort  to  ennoble 
its  ignoble  progenitors. 

This  theory  of  the  non-rational  origin  of  reason, 
which   is  a   necessary  corollary  of  the   naturalistic 


68  NATURALISM    AND   REASON 

scheme,  has  philosophical  consequences  of  great  in- 
terest, to  some  of  which  I  have  alluded  elsewhere,' 
and  which  must  occupy  our  attention  in  a  later 
chapter  of  these  Notes.  In  the  meanwhile,  there 
are  other  aspects  of  the  subject  which  deserve  a 
moment's  consideration. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  organic  evolution 
there  is  no  distinction,  I  imagine,  to  be  drawn  be- 
tween the  development  of  reason  and  that  of  any 
other  faculty,  physiological  or  psychical,  by  which 
the  interests  of  the  individual  or  the  race  are  pro- 
moted. From  the  humblest  form  of  nervous  irri- 
tability at  one  end  of  the  scale,  to  the  reasoning 
capacity  of  the  most  advanced  races  at  the  other, 
everything,  without  exception — sensation,  instinct, 
desire,  volition — has  been  produced,  directly  or  in- 
directly, by  natural  causes  acting  for  the  most  part 
on  strictly  utilitarian  principles.  Convenience,  not 
knowledge,  therefore,  has  been  the  main  end  to 
which  this  process  has  tended.  '  It  was  not  for  pur- 
poses of  research  that  our  senses  were  evolved,'  nor 
was  it  in  order  to  penetrate  the  secrets  of  the  uni- 
verse that  we  are  endowed  with  reason. 

Under  these  circumstances  it  is  not  surprising 
that  the  faculties  thus  laboriously  created  arc  but 
imperfectly  fitted  to  satisfy  that  speculative  curios- 
ity which  is  one  of  the  most  curious  bj^-products  of 
the  evolutionary  process.  The  inadequacy  of  our 
intellect,  indeed,  to  resolve  the  questions  which  it 

'  rJtilosopJiic  Doubt,  Pt.  iii.,  ch.  xiii. 


NATURALISM   AND    REASON  69 

is  capable  of  asking  is  acknowledged  (at  least  in 
words)  both  by  students  of  science  and  by  students 
of  theology.  But  they  do  not  seem  so  much  im- 
pressed with  the  inadequacy  of  our  senses.  Yet,  if 
the  current  doctrine  of  evolution  be  true,  we  have 
no  choice  but  to  admit  that  with  the  great  mass  of 
natural  fact  we  are  probably  brought  into  no  sensi- 
ble relation  at  all.  I  am  not  referring  here  merely 
to  the  limitations  imposed  upon  such  senses  as  we 
possess,  but  to  the  total  absence  of  an  indefinite 
number  of  senses  which  conceivably  wc  might  pos- 
sess, but  do  not.  There  are  sounds  which  the  ear 
cannot  hear,  there  are  sights  which  the  eye  cannot 
see.  But  besides  all  these  there  must  be  countless 
aspects  of  external  Nature  of  which  we  have  no 
knowledge:  of  which,  owing  to  the  absence  of  ap- 
propriate organs,  we  can  form  no  conception  ;  which 
imagination  cannot  picture  nor  language  express. 
Had  Voltaire  been  acquainted  with  the  theory  of 
evolution,  he  would  not  have  put  forward  his  Mi- 
cromegas  so  much  as  an  illustration  of  a  paradox 
which  cannot  be  disproved,  as  of  a  truth  which  can- 
not be  doubted.  For  to  suppose  that  a  course  of 
development  carried  out,  not  with  the  object  of  ex- 
tending knowledge  or  satisfying  curiosity,  but  solely 
with  that  of  promoting  lite,  on  an  area  so  insig- 
nificant as  the  surface  of  the  earth,  between  limits 
of  temperature  and  pressure  so  narrow,  and  under 
general  conditions  so  exceptional,  should  have  end- 
ed in  supplying  us  with  senses  even  approximately 


70  NATURALISM   AND   REASON 

adequate  to  the  apprehension  of  Nature  in  all  her 
complexities,  is  to  believe  in  a  coincidence  more  as- 
tounding than  the  most  audacious  novelist  has  ever 
employed  to  cut  the  knot  of  some  entangled  tale. 

For  it  must  be  recollected  that  the  same  natural 
forces  which  tend  to  the  evolution  of  organs  which 
are  useful  tend  also  to  the  suppression  of  organs 
that  are  useless.  Not  only  does  Nature  take  no 
interest  in  our  general  education,  not  only  is  she 
quite  indifferent  to  the  growth  of  enlightenment,  un- 
less the  enlightenment  improve  our  chances  in  the 
struggle  for  existence,  but  she  positively  objects  to 
the  very  existence  of  faculties  by  which  these  ends 
might,  perhaps,  be  attained.  She  regards  them  as 
mere  hindrances  in  the  only  race  which  she  desires 
to  see  run ;  and  not  content  with  refusing  directly 
to  create  any  faculty  except  for  a  practical  pur- 
pose, she  immediately  proceeds  to  destroy  faculties 
already  created  when  their  practical  purpose  has 
ceased  ;  for  thus  does  the  eye  of  the  cave-born  fish 
degenerate  and  the  instinct  of  the  domesticated 
animal  decay.  Those,  then,  who  are  inclined  to  the 
opinion  that  between  our  organism  and  its  environ- 
ments there  is  a  correspondence  which,  from  the 
point  of  view  of  general  knowledge,  is  even  approx- 
imately adequate,  must  hold,  in  the  Jirst  place,  that 
samples  or  suggestions  of  every  sort  of  natural  man- 
ifestation are  to  be  found  in  our  narrow  and  limited 
world ;  in  the  second  place,  that  these  samples  are  of 
a  character  which  would  permit  of  nervous  tissue 


NATURALISM    AND    REASON  /I 

being  so  modified  by  selection  as  to  respond  specifi- 
cally to  their  action ;  in  the  tJiird  place,  that  such 
specific  modifications  were  not  only  possible,  but 
would  have  proved  useful  at  the  period  of  evolution 
during  which  our  senses  in  their  present  shape  were 
developed  ;  and  in  XSx^t  fourth  place,  that  these  modi- 
fications would  have  proved  useful  enough  to  make 
it  worth  while  to  use  up,  for  the  purpose  of  produc- 
ing them,  material  which  might  have  been,  and  has 
been,  otherwise  employed. 

All  these  propositions  seem  to  me  improbable, 
the  first  two  of  them  incredible.^     It  is  impossible, 

'  It  maj'  perhaps  be  said  that  it  is  not  necessary  that  we  should  be 
specifically  affected  by  each  particular  kind  of  energy  in  order  either 
to  discover  its  existence  or  to  investigate  its  character.  It  is  enough 
that  among  its  effects  should  be  some  which  are  cognisable  by  our 
actual  senses,  that  it  should  modify  in  some  way  the  world  we  know, 
that  it  should  intervene  perceptibly  in  that  part  of  the  general  system 
to  which  our  organism  happens  to  be  immediately  connected.  This 
is  no  doubt  true,  and  our  knowledge  of  electricity  and  magnetism 
(among  other  things)  is  there  to  prove  it.  But  let  it  be  noted  how 
slender  and  how  accidental  was  the  clue  which  led  us  to  the  first 
beginnings,  from  which  all  our  knowledge  of  these  great  phenomena 
is  derived.  Directly  they  can  hardly  be  said  to  be  in  relation  with 
our  organs  of  perception  at  all  (notwithstanding  the  fact  that  light  is 
now  regarded  as  an  electro-magnetic  phenomenon)  and  their  indirect 
relation  with  them  is  so  slight  that  probably  no  amount  of  mere  obser- 
vation could,  in  the  absence  of  experiment,  have  given  us  a  notion  of 
their  magnitude  or  importance.  They  were  not  sought  for  to  fill  a 
gap  whose  existence  had  been  demonstrated  by  calculation.  Their 
discovery  was  no  inevitable  step  in  the  onward  march  of  scientific 
knowledge.  They  were  stumbled  upon  by  accident ;  and  few  would 
be  bold  enough  to  assert  that  if,  for  example,  the  human  race  had 
not  happened  to  possess  iron,  magnetism  would  ever  have  presented 
itself  as  a  subject  requiring  investigation  at  all. 


72  NATURALISM   AND    REASON 

therefore,  to  resist  the  conviction  that  there  must  be 
an  indefinite  number  of  aspects  of  Nature  respecting 
which  science  never  can  give  us  any  information, 
even  in  our  dreams.  We  must  conceive  ourselves  as 
feeling  our  way  about  this  dim  corner  of  the  il- 
limitable world,  like  children  in  a  darkened  room, 
encompassed  by  we  know  not  what ;  a  little  better 
endowed  with  the  machinery  of  sensation  than  the 
protozoon,  yet  poorly  provided  indeed  as  compared 
with  a  being,  if  such  a  one  could  be  conceived, 
whose  senses  were  adequate  to  the  infinite  variety 
of  material  Nature.  It  is  true,  no  doubt,  that  we 
are  possessed  of  reason,  and  that  protozoa  are  not. 
But  even  reason,  on  the  naturalistic  theory,  occupies 
no  elevated  or  permanent  position  in  the  hierarchy 
of  phenomena.  It  is  not  the  final  result  oi  a  great 
process,  the  roof  and  crown  of  things.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  is,  as  I  have  said,  no  more  than  one  of  many 
experiments  for  increasing  our  chance  of  survival, 
and,  among  these,  by  no  means  the  most  important 
or  the  most  enduring. 

II 

People  sometimes  talk,  indeed,  as  if  it  was  the 
difficult  and  complex  work  connected  with  the  main- 
tenance of  life  that  was  performed  by  intellect.  But 
there  can  be  no  greater  delusion.  The  management 
of  the  humblest  organ  would  be  infinitely  beyond 
our  mental  capacity,  were  it  possible  for  us  to  be 


NATURALISM   AND   REASON  73 

entrusted  with  it ;  and  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  only 
in  the  simplest  jobs  that  discursive  reason  is  per- 
mitted  to  have  a  hand  at  all ;  our  tendency  to  take 
a  different  view  being  merely  the  self-importance  of 
a  child  who,  because  it  is  allowed  to  stamp  the  let- 
ters, imagines  that  it  conducts  the  correspondence. 
The  best  way  of  looking  at  mind  on  the  naturalistic 
hypothesis  is,  perhaps,  to  regard  it  as  an  instrument 
for  securing  a  flexibility  of  adaptation  which  instinct 
alone  is  not  able  to  attain.  Instinct  is  incompa- 
rably the  better  machine  in  every  respect  save  one. 
It  works  more  smoothly,  with  less  friction,  with  far 
greater  precision  and  accuracy.  But  it  is  not  adapt- 
able. Many  generations  and  much  slaughter  are  re- 
quired to  breed  it  into  a  race.  Once  acquired,  it  can 
be  modified  or  expelled  only  by  the  same  harsh  and 
tedious  methods.  Mind,  on  the  other  hand,  from 
the  point  of  view  of  organic  evolution,  may  be  con- 
sidered as  an  inherited  faculty  for  self-adjustment; 
and  though,  as  I  have  already  had  occasion  to  note, 
the  limits  within  which  such  adjustment  is  permit- 
ted are  exceedingly  narrow,  within  those  limits  it  is 
doubtless  exceedingly  valuable. 

But  even  here  one  of  the  principal  functions  of 
mind  is  to  create  habits  by  which,  when  they  are 
fully  formed,  it  is  itself  supplanted.  If  the  conscious 
adaptation  of  means  to  ends  was  always  necessar)- 
in  order  to  perform  even  those  few  functions  for  the 
first  performance  of  which  conscious  adaptation  was 
originally  required,  life  would  be  frittered  away  in 


74  NATURALISM   AND   REASON 

doing  badly,  but  with  deliberation,  some  small  frac- 
tion of  that  which  we  now  do  well  without  any 
deliberation  at  all.  The  formation  of  habits  is,  there- 
fore, as  has  often  been  pointed  out,  a  necessary  pre- 
liminary to  the  '  higher '  uses  of  mind  ;  for  it,  and  it 
alone,  sets  attention  and  intelligence  free  to  do  work 
from  which  they  would  otherwise  be  debarred  by 
their  absorption  in  the  petty  needs  of  daily  exist- 
ence. 

But  while  it  is  thus  plain  that  the  formation  of 
habits  is  an  essential  pre-requisite  of  mental  develop- 
ment, it  would  also  seem  that  it  constitutes  the 
first  step  in  a  process  which,  if  thoroughly  success- 
ful, would  end  in  the  destruction,  if  not  of  conscious- 
ness itself,  at  least  of  the  higher  manifestation  of 
consciousness,  such  as  will,  attention,  and  discur- 
sive reason.^  All  these,  as  we  may  suppose,  will  be 
gradually  superseded  in  an  increasing  number  of 
departments  of  human  activity  by  the  growth  of  in- 
stincts or  inherited  habits,  by  which  even  such  adjust- 
ments between  the  organism  and  its  surroundings  as 
now  seem  most  dependent  on  self-conscious  mind 
may  be  successfully  effected. 

These  are  prophecies,  however,  which  concern 
themselves  with  a  very  remote  future,  and  for  my 
part  I  do  not  ask  the  reader  to  regard  their  fulfil- 
ment as  an  inexorable    necessity.      It  is  enough  if 

'  Empirical  psychologists  are  not  agreed  as  to  whether  the  ap- 
parent unconsciousness  which  accompanies  completed  habits  is  real 
or  not.  It  is  unnecessary  for  the  purpose  of  my  argument  that  this 
point  should  be  determined. 


NATURALISM    AND    REASON  75 

they  mark  with  sufficient  emphasis  the  place  which 
Mind,  in  its  higher  manifestations,  occupies  in  the 
scheme  of  things,  as  this  is  presented  to  us  by  the 
naturalistic  hypothesis.  Mr.  Spencer,  who  pierces 
the  future  with  a  surer  gaze  than  I  can  make  the 
least  pretence  to,  looks  confidently  forward  to  a  time 
when  the  relation  of  man  to  his  surroundings  will  be 
so  happily  contrived  that  the  reign  of  absolute  right- 
eousness will  prevail ;  conscience,  grown  unneces- 
sary, will  be  dispensed  with ;  the  path  of  least 
resistance  will  be  the  path  of  virtue ;  and  not  the 
'  broad,'  but  the  '  narrow  way,'  will  '  lead  to  destruc- 
tion.' These  excellent  consequences  seem  to  me 
to  flow  very  smoothly  and  satisfactorily  from  his 
particular  doctrine  of  evolution,  combined  with  his 
particular  doctrine  of  morals.  But  I  confess  that  my 
own  personal  gratification  at  the  prospect  is  some- 
what dimmed  by  the  reflection  that  the  same  kind 
of  causes  which  make  conscience  superfluous  will 
relieve  us  from  the  necessity  of  intellectual  effort, 
and  that  by  the  time  we  are  all  perfectly  good  we 
shall  also  be  all  perfectly  idiotic. 

I  know  not  how  it  may  strike  the  reader ;  but  I 
at  least  am  left  sensibly  poorer  by  this  deposition  of 
Reason  from  its  ancient  position  as  the  Ground  of 
all  existence,  to  that  of  an  expedient  among  other 
expedients  for  the  maintenance  of  organic  life  ;  an  ex- 
pedient, moreover,  which  is  temporary  in  its  charac- 
ter and  insignificant  in  its  effects.  An  irrational 
Universe  which  accidentally  turns  out  a  few  reason- 


^6  NATURALISM   AND   REASON 

ing  animals  at  one  corner  of  it,  as  a  rich  man  may 
experiment  at  one  end  of  his  park  with  some  curious 
'  sport '  accidentally  produced  among  his  flocks  and 
herds,  is  a  Universe  which  we  might  well  despise  if 
we  did  not  ourselves  share  its  degradation.  But 
must  we  not  inevitably  share  it?  Pascal  somewhere 
observes  that  Man,  however  feeble,  is  yet  in  his  very 
feebleness  superior  to  the  blind  forces  of  Nature ; 
for  he  knows  himself,  and  they  do  not.  I  confess  that 
on  the  naturalistic  hypothesis  I  see  no  such  superi- 
ority. If,  indeed,  there  were  a  Rational  Author  of 
Nature,  and  if  in  any  degree,  even  the  most  insig- 
nificant, we  shared  His  attributes,  we  might  well 
conceive  ourselves  as  of  finer  essence  and  more  in- 
trinsic worth  than  the  material  world  which  we  in- 
habit, immeasurable  though  it  may  be.  But  if  we 
be  the  creation  of  that  world ;  if  it  made  us  what 
we  are,  and  will  again  unmake  us ;  how  then  ?  The 
sense  of  humour,  not  the  least  precious  among  the 
gifts  with  which  the  clash  of  atoms  has  endowed 
us,  should  surely  prevent  us  assuming  any  airs  of 
superiority  over  other  and  more  powerful  members 
of  the  same  family  of  '  phenomena,'  more  permanent 
and  more  powerful  than  ourselves. 


CHAPTER   IV 

SUMMARY   AND   CONCLUSION   OF   PART   I 

I  HAVE  now  completed  my  survey  of  certain  opin- 
ions which  naturalism  seems  to  require  us  to  hold 
respecting  important  matters  connected  with  Right- 
eousness, Beauty,  and  Reason.  The  survey  has 
necessarily  been  concise  ;  but,  concise  though  it  has 
been,  it  has,  perhaps,  sufficiently  indicated  the  inner 
antagonism  which  exists  between  the  Naturalistic 
system  and  the  feelings  which  the  best  among  man- 
kind, including  many  who  may  be  counted  as  adhe- 
rents of  that  system,  have  hitherto  considered  as  the 
most  valuable  possessions  of  our  race.  If  natural- 
ism be  true,  or,  rather,  if  it  be  the  whole  truth,  then 
is  morality  but  a  bare  catalogue  of  utilitarian  pre- 
cepts; beauty  but  the  chance  occasion  of  a  passing 
pleasure  ;  reason  but  the  dim  passage  from  one  set 
of  unthinking  habits  to  another.  All  that  gives  dig- 
nity to  life,  all  that  gives  value  to  effort,  shrinks  and 
fades  under  the  pitiless  glare  of  a  creed  like  this ; 
and  even  curiosity,  the  hardiest  among  the  nobler  ^ 
passions  of  the  soul,  must  languish  under  the  con- 
viction that  neither  for  this  generation  nor  for  any 
that  shall  come  after  it,  neither  in  this  life  nor  in 


7S  SUMMARY   AND    CONCLUSION   OF   PART   I 

another,  will  the  tie  be  wholly  loosened  by  which 
reason,  not  less  than  appetite,  is  held  in  hereditary 
bondage  to  the  service  of  our  material  needs. 

I  am  anxious,  however,  not  to  overstate  my  case. 
It  is  of  course  possible,  to  take  for  a  moment  eesthet- 
ics  as  our  text,  that  whatever  be  our  views  concern- 
ing- naturalism,  we  shall  still  like  good  poetry  and 
good  music,  and  that  we  shall  not,  perhaps,  find  if 
we  sum  up  our  pleasures  at  the  year's  end,  that  the 
total  satisfaction  derived  from  the  contemplation  of 
Art  and  Nature  is  very  largely  diminished  by  the 
fact  that  our  philosophy  allows  us  to  draw  no  im- 
portant distinction  between  the  beauties  of  a  sauce 
and  the  beauties  of  a  symphony.  Both  may  con- 
tinue to  afford  the  man  with  a  good  palate  and  a 
good  ear  a  considerable  amount  of  satisfaction  ;  and 
if  all  we  desire  is  to  find  in  literature  and  in  art 
something  that  will  help  us  either  'to  enjoy  life  or 
to  endure  it,'  I  do  not  contend  that,  by  any  theory 
of  the  beautiful,  of  this  we  shall  wholly  be  deprived. 

Nevertheless  there  is,  even  so,  a  loss  not  lightly 
to  be  underrated,  a  loss  that  falls  alike  on  him  that 
produces  and  on  him  that  enjoys.  Poets  and  artists 
have  been  wont  to  consider  themselves,  and  to  be 
considered  by  others,  as  prophets  and  seers,  the  re- 
vealers  under  sensuous  forms  of  hidden  mysteries, 
the  symbolic  preachers  of  eternal  truths.  All  this 
is,  of  course,  on  the  naturalistic  theory,  very  absurd. 
They  minister,  no  doubt,  with  success  to  some  phase, 
usually  a  very  transitory  phase,  of  public  taste  ;  but 


SUMMARY    AND    CONCLUSION    OF   TART    I  79 

they  have  no  mysteries  to  reveal,  and  what  they  tell 
us,  thoui^h  it  may  be  very  agreeable,  is  seldom  true, 
and  never  important.  This  is  a  conclusion  which, 
howsoever  it  ma}'  accord  with  sound  philosophy,  is 
not  likely  to  prove  ver}'  stimulating  to  the  artist,  nor 
does  it  react  with  less  unfortunate  effect  upon  those 
to  whom  the  artist  appeals.  Even  if  their  feeling  of 
delight  in  the  beautiful  is  not  marred  for  them  in 
immediate  experience,  it  must  suffer  in  memory  and 
reflection.  For  such  a  feeling  carries  with  it,  at  its 
best,  an  inevitable  reference,  not  less  inevitable  be- 
cause it  is  obscure,  to  a  Reality  which  is  eternal  and 
unchanging ;  and  we  cannot  accept  without  suffer- 
ing the  conviction  that  in  making  such  a  reference 
we  were  merely  the  dupes  of  our  emotions,  the  vic- 
tims of  a  temporary  hallucination  induced,  as  it  were, 
by  some  spiritual  drug. 

But  if  on  the  naturalistic  hypothesis  the  senti- 
ments associated  with  beauty  seem  like  a  poor  jest 
l)]ayed  on  us  by  Nature  for  no  apparent  purpose, 
those  that  gather  round  morality  are,  so  to  speak,  a 
deliberate  fraud  perpetrated  for  a  well-defined  end. 
The  consciousness  of  freedom,  the  sense  of  respon- 
sibility, the  authority  of  conscience,  the  beauty  of 
holiness,  the  admiration  for  self-devotion,  the  sym- 
pathy with  suffering— these  and  all  the  train  of  be- 
liefs and  feelings  from  which  spring  noble  deeds  and 
generous  ambitions  are  seen  to  be  mere  devices  for 
securing  to  societies,  if  not  to  individuals,  some 
competitive  advantage  in  the  struggle  for  existence. 


8o  SUMMARY   AND    CONCLUSION    OF   PART   I 

They  are  not  worse,  but  neither  are  they  better 
than  the  thousand-and-one  appetites  and  instincts, 
many  of  them,  as  I  have  said,  cruel,  and  many  of 
them  disgusting,  created  by  similar  causes  in  order 
to  carry  out  through  all  organic  Nature  the  like  un- 
profitable ends ;  and  if  we  think  them  better,  as  in 
our  unreflecting  moments  we  arc  apt  to  do,  this,  on 
the  Naturalistic  hypothesis,  is  only  because  some 
delusion  of  the  kind  is  necessary  in  order  to  induce 
us  to  perform  actions  which  in  themselves  can  con- 
tribute nothing  to  our  personal  gratification. 

The  inner  discord  which  finds  expression  in  con- 
clusions like  these  largely  arises,  as  the  reader  sees, 
from  a  want  of  balance  or  proportion  between  the 
range  of  our  intellectual  vision  and  the  circum- 
stances of  our  actual  existence.  Our  capacity  for 
standing  outside  ourselves  and  taking  stock  of  the 
position  which  we  occupy  in  the  universe  of  things 
has  been  enormously  and,  it  would  seem,  unfort- 
unately, increased  by  recent  scientific  discovery. 
We  have  learned  too  much.  We  are  educated  above 
that  position  in  life  in  which  it  has  pleased  Nature 
to  place  us.  We  can  no  longer  accept  it  without 
criticism  and  without  examination.  We  insist  on 
interrogating  that  material  system  which,  according 
to  naturalism,  is  the  true  author  of  our  being  as  to 
whence  we  come  and  whither  we  go,  what  are  the 
causes  which  have  made  us  what  we  are,  and  what 
are  the  purposes  which  our  existence  subserves. 
And  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  answers  griven  to 


SUMMARY   AND    CONCLUSION   OF   PART   I  8 1 

this  question  by  our  oracle  are  extremely  unsatis- 
factory. We  have  learned  to  measure  space,  and 
we  perceive  that  our  dwelling-place  is  but  a  mere 
point,  wandering  with  its  companions,  apparently 
at  random,  through  the  wilderness  of  stars.  We 
have  learned  to  measure  time,  and  we  perceive  that 
the  life  not  merely  of  the  individual  or  of  the  nation, 
but  of  the  whole  race,  is  brief,  and  apparently  quite 
unimportant.  We  have  learned  to  unravel  causes, 
and  we  perceive  that  emotions  and  aspirations 
whose  ver}^  being  seems  to  hang  on  the  existence 
of  realities  of  which  naturalism  takes  no  account, 
are  in  their  origin  contemptible  and  in  their  sug- 
gestion mendacious. 

To  me  it  appears  certain  that  this  clashing  be- 
tween beliefs  and  feelings  must  ultimately  prove 
fatal  to  one  or  the  other.  Make  what  allowance 
you  please  for  the  stupidity  of  mankind,  take  the 
fullest  account  of  their  really  remarkable  power  of 
letting  their  speculative  (jpinions  follow  one  line  of 
development  and  their  practical  ideals  another,  yet 
the  time  must  come  when  reciprocal  action  will 
perforce  bring  opinions  and  ideals  into  some  kind  of 
agreement  and  congruity.  If,  then,  naturalism  is  to 
hold  the  field,  the  feelings  and  opinions  inconsist- 
ent with  naturalism  must  be  foredoomed  to  suffer 
change ;  and  how,  when  that  change  shall  come 
about,  it  can  do  otherwise  than  eat  all  nobility  out  of 
our  conception  of  conduct  and  all  worth  out  of  our 
conception  of  life,  I  am  wlioUy  unable  to  understand. 


82  SUMMARY    AND    CONCLUSION    OF   PART    I 

I  am  aware  that  many  persons  are  in  the  habit 
of  subjecting  these  views  to  an  experimental  refuta- 
tion by  pointing  to  a  great  many  excellent  people 
who  hold,  in  more  or  less  purity,  the  naturalistic 
creed,  but  who,  nevertheless,  offer  prominent  ex- 
amples of  that  habit  of  mind  with  which,  as  I  have 
been  endeavouring  to  show,  the  naturalistic  creed  is 
essentially  inconsistent.  Naturalism — so  runs  the 
argument — co-exists  in  the  case  of  Messrs.  A.,  B., 
C,  &c.,  with  the  most  admirable  exhibition  of  un- 
selfish virtue.  If  this  be  so  in  the  case  of  a  hundred 
individuals,  why  not  in  the  case  of  ten  thousand? 
If  in  the  case  of  ten  thousand,  why  not  in  the  case 
of  humanity  at  large?  Now,  to  the  facts  on  which 
this  reasoning  proceeds  I  raise  no  objection.  I  de- 
sire neither  to  ignore  the  existence  nor  to  mini- 
mise the  merits  of  these  shining  examples  of  virtue 
unsupported  by  religion.  But  though  the  facts  be 
true,  the  reasoning  based  on  them  will  not  bear 
close  examination.  Biologists  tell  us  of  parasites 
which  live,  and  can  only  live,  within  the  bodies  of 
animals  more  highly  organised  than  they.  For 
them  their  luckless  host  has  to  find  food,  to  digest 
it,  and  to  convert  it  into  nourishment  which  they 
can  consume  without  exertion  and  assimilate  with- 
out difficulty.  Their  structure  is  of  the  simplest 
kind.  Their  host  sees  for  them,  so  they  need  no 
eyes;  he  hears  for  them,  so  they  need  no  ears;  he 
works  for  them  and  contrives  for  them,  so  the}' 
need  but  feeble    muscles  and  an   undeveloped  ner- 


SUMMARY   AND    CONCLUSION    OF    PART   I  83 

voiis  system.  But  are  we  to  conclude  from  this  that 
ior  the  animal  kingdom  eyes  and  cars,  powerful 
limbs  and  complex  nerves,  are  superfluities?  They 
are  superfluities  for  the  parasite  only  because  they 
have  first  been  necessities  for  the  host,  and  when 
the  host  perishes  the  parasite,  in  their  absence,  is 
not  unlikely  to  perish  also. 

So  it  is  with  those  persons  who  claim  to  show  by 
their  example  that  naturalism  is  practically  consistent 
with  the  maintenance  of  ethical  ideals  with  which 
naturalism  has  no  natural  affinity.  Their  spiritual 
life  is  parasitic :  it  is  sheltered  by  convictions  which 
belong,  not  to  them,  but  to  the  society  of  which  they 
form  a  part ;  it  is  nourished  by  processes  in  which 
they  take  no  share.  And  when  those  convictions 
decay,  and  those  processes  come  to  an  end,  the  alien 
life  which  they  have  maintained  can  scarce  be  ex- 
pected to  outlast  them. 

I  am  not  aware  that  anyone  has  as  yet  en- 
deavoured to  construct  the  catechism  of  the  future, 
purged  of  every  element  drawn  from  any  other 
source  than  the  naturalistic  creed.  It  is  greatly  to 
be  desired  that  this  task  should  be  undertaken  in  an 
impartial  spirit;  and  as  a  small  contribution  to  such 
an  object,  I  offer  the  following  pairs  of  contrasted 
propositions,  the  first  members  of  each  pair  repre- 
senting current  teaching,  the  second  representing  the 
teaching  which  ought  to  be  substituted  for  it  if  the 
naturalistic  theory  be  accepted. 

A.  The  universe  is  the  creation  of  Reason,  and 


84  SUMMARY   AND    CONCLUSION   OF   PART   I 

all    things   work    together    towards    a    reasonable 
end. 

B.  So  far  as  we  are  concerned,  reason  is  to  be 
found  neither  in  the  beginning  of  things  nor  in  their 
end  ;  and  though  everything  is  predetermined,  noth- 
ing is  fore-ordained. 

A.  Creative  reason  is  interfused  with  infinite 
love. 

B.  As  reason  is  absent,  so  also  is  love.  The  uni- 
versal fiux  is  ordered  by  blind  causation  alone. 

A.  There  is  a  moral  law,  immutable,  eternal ;  in 
its  governance  all  spirits  find  their  true  freedom 
and  their  most  perfect  realisation.  Though  it  be 
adequate  to  infinite  goodness  and  infinite  intelligence, 
it  may  be  understood,  even  by  man,  sufficiently  for 
his  guidance. 

B.  Among  the  causes  by  which  the  course  of 
organic  and  social  development  has  been  blindly 
determined  are  pains,  pleasures,  instincts,  appetites, 
disgusts,  religions,  moralities,  superstitions ;  the  senti- 
ment of  what  is  noble  and  intrinsically  worthy ;  the 
sentiment  of  what  is  ignoble  and  intrinsically  worth- 
less. From  a  purely  scientific  point  of  view  these 
all  stand  on  an  equality  ;  all  are  action -producing 
causes  developed,  not  to  improve,  but  simply  to 
perpetuate,  the  species. 

A.  In  the  possession  of  reason  and  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  beauty,  we  in  some  remote  way  share  the 
nature  of  that  infinite  Personality  in  Whom  we  live 
and  move  and  have  our  beinsf. 


SUMMARY   AND    CONCLUSION   OF   PART   I  85 

B.  Reason  is  but  the  ps}xhological  expression 
of  certain  physiological  processes  in  the  cerebral 
hemispheres  ;  it  is  no  more  than  an  expedient  among 
many  expedients  by  which  the  individual  and  the 
race  are  preserved  ;  just  as  Beauty  is  no  more  than 
the  name  for  such  varying  and  accidental  attributes 
of  the  material  or  moral  worlds  as  may  happen  for 
the  moment  to  stir  our  aesthetic  feelings. 

A.  Every  human  soul  is  of  infinite  value,  eternal, 
free ;  no  human  being,  therefore,  is  so  placed  as  not 
to  have  within  his  reach,  in  himself  and  others,  ob- 
jects adequate  to  infinite  endeavour. 

B.  The  individual  perishes ;  the  race  itself  does 
not  endure.  Few  can  flatter  themselves  that  their 
conduct  has  any  effect  whatever  upon  its  remoter 
destinies;  and  of  those  few,  none  can  say  with 
reasonable  assurance  that  the  effect  which  they  are 
destined  to  produce  is  the  one  which  they  desire. 
Even  if  we  were  free,  therefore,  our  ignorance 
would  make  us  helpless  ;  and  it  may  be  almost  a  con- 
solation to  reflect  that  our  conduct  was  determined 
for  us  by  the  distribution  of  unthinking  forces  in 
pre-solar  aeons,  and  that  if  wc  are  impotent  to  fore- 
see its  consequences,  wc  were  not  less  impotent  to 
arrange  its  causes. 

The  doctrines  embodied  in  the  second  member 
of  each  of  these  alternatives  may  be  true,  or  may 
at  least  represent  the  nearest  approach  to  truth  of 
which  we  are  at  present  capable.  Into  this  question 
I  do  not  yet  inquire.     But  if  they  are  to  constitute 


86  SUMMARY    AND    CONCLUSION    OF    PART   I 

the  dogmatic  scaffolding  by  wfiich  oiu"  educational 
system  is  to  be  supported ;  if  it  is  to  be  in  harmony 
with  principles  like  these  that  the  child  is  to  be 
taught  at  its  mother's  knee,  and  the  young  man  is  to 
build  up  the  ideals  of  his  life,  then,  unless  I  greatly 
mistake,  it  will  be  found  that  the  inner  discord  which 
exists,  and  which  must  gradually  declare  itself,  be- 
tween the  emotions  proper  to  naturalism  and  those 
which  have  actually  grown  up  under  the  shadow  of 
traditional  convictions,  will  at  no  distant  date  most 
unpleasantly  translate  itself  into  practice. 


PART  II 

SOME   REASONS   FOR   BELIEF 


CHAPTER   1 

THE   nilLOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 


So  far  we  have  been  occupied  in  weighing  certain 
indirect  and  collateral  consequences  which  seem 
likely  to  flow  from  a  particular  theory  of  the  world 
in  which  we  live.  The  theory  itself  was  taken  for 
granted.  No  attempt  was  made  to  examine  its 
foundations  or  to  test  their  strength ;  no  compari- 
son between  its  different  parts  was  instituted  for 
the  purpose  of  determining  how  far  they  really  con- 
stituted a  coherent  and  intelligible  whole.  We 
accepted  it  as  we  found  it,  turning  with  averted 
eyes  even  from  the  speculative  problems  which  lay 
closest  to  the  track  of  our  immediate  investigation. 

This  course  is  not  the  most  logical ;  and  it  might 
ai)pcar  a  more  fitting  procedure  to  reserve  our  con- 
sideration of  the  consequences  of  a  system  until 
some  conclusion  had  been  arrived  at  concerning 
its  truth.  Such,  however,  is  not  the  ordinary  habit 
of  mankind  in  dealing  with  problems  in  which 
(juestions  of  abstract  theory  and  daily  practice  are 
clf)sely  intertwined ;  and  even  philosophers  show  a 
kindly  reluctance  too  closely  to  examine  the  claims 


90         THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

of  creeds  whose  consequences  are  in  strict  accord 
with  contemporary  sentiment.  I  have  a  better  rea- 
son, however,  to  offer  for  the  order  here  selected 
than  can  be  derived  from  precedent  or  example,  a 
reason  based  on  the  fact  that,  had  I  begun  these 
Notes  with  the  discussion  on  which  1  am  about  to 
embark,  their  whole  character  would  probably  have 
been  misunderstood.  They  would  have  been  re- 
garded as  contributions  to  philosophical  discussion 
of  a  kind  which  would  only  interest  the  specialist ; 
and  the  general  reader,  to  whom  I  desire  partic- 
ularly to  appeal,  would  have  abandoned  their  peru- 
sal in  disgust.  For  I  cannot  deny,  either  that  I 
am  about  to  ask  him  to  accompany  me  in  a  search 
after  first  principles ;  or  (which  is,  perhaps,  worse) 
that  the  search  is  destined  to  be  ineffectual.  He 
will  not  only  have  to  occupy  himself  with  argu- 
ments of  a  remote  and  abstract  kind,  and  for  a 
moment  to  disturb  the  placid  depths  of  ordinary 
thought  with  unaccustomed  soundings,  but  the  ar- 
guments will  be  to  all  appearance  barren,  and  the 
soundings  will  not  find  bottom.  The  full  justifi- 
cation for  a  procedure  seemingly  so  futile  can  only 
be  found  in  the  chapters  which  follow,  and  in  the 
general  drift  of  the  discussion  taken  as  a  whole ;  but 
in  the  meanwhile  the  reader  will  be  able  to  appre- 
ciate my  immediate  object  if  he  will  bear  in  mind 
the  precise  point  at  which  we  have  arrived. 

Let  him  remember,  then,  that  the  result  of  the 
inquiry  instituted  into  the  practical  tendencies  of 


THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM         9 1 

the  naturalistic  theory  is  to  show  them  to  be  well- 
nigh  intolerable.  The  theory,  no  doubt,  may  for 
all  that  be  true,  since  it  must  candidly  be  admitted 
that  there  is  no  naturalistic  reason  for  anticipating 
any  pre-established  harmony  between  truth  and  ex- 
pediency in  the  higher  regions  of  speculation.  But 
at  least  we  are  called  upon  to  make  a  very  search- 
ing inquiry  before  we  admit  that  it  is  true.  We  are 
not  here  concerned  with  any  mere  curiosity  of  dia- 
lectics, with  the  quest  for  a  kind  of  knowledge 
which,  however  interesting  to  the  few,  yet  bears  no 
fruit  for  ordinary  human  use.  On  the  contrary,  the 
issues  that  have  to  be  decided  are  practical,  if  any- 
thing is  practical.  They  touch  at  every  point  the 
most  permanent  interests  of  man,  individual  and 
social ;  and  any  procedure  is  preferable  to  a  com- 
placent acquiescence  in  the  loss  of  all  the  fairest 
provinces  in  our  spiritual  inheritance. 

This  is  a  fact  which  has  long  been  perceived  by 
the  defenders  of  all  the  creeds,  philosophical  or 
theological,  with  which  the  pretensions  of  natural- 
ism are  in  conflict.  You  will  not  open  a  modern 
work  of  apologetics,  for  instance,  without  finding  in 
it  some  endeavour  to  show  that  the  naturalistic 
theory  is  insufficient,  and  that  it  requires  to  be  sup- 
plemented by  precisely  the  very  system  in  whose 
interests  tiiat  particular  work  was  written.  This, 
no  doubt,  is  as  it  should  be ;  and  on  this  plan  a  great 
deal  of  valuable  criticism  and  interesting  specula- 
tion has  been  produced.     It  is  not,  however,  exactly 


92         THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

the  plan  which  can  be  here  pursued,  partly  because 
these  Notes  contain,  not  a  system  of  theology,  but 
only  an  introduction  to  theology ;  and  partly  be- 
cause I  have  always  found  it  easier  to  satisfy  my- 
self of  the  insufficiency  of  naturalism  than  of  the 
absolute  sufficiency  of  any  of  the  schemes  by  which 
it  has  been  sought  to  modify  or  to  complete  it. 

In  this  chapter,  however,  I  shall  follow  an  easier 
line  of  march,  the  nature  of  which  the  reader  will 
readily  understand  if  he  considers  the  two  elements 
composing  the  naturalistic  creed :  the  one  positive, 
consisting,  broadly  speaking,  of  the  teaching  con- 
tained in  the  general  body  of  the  natural  sciences ; 
the  other  negative,  expressed  in  the  doctrine  that 
beyond  these  limits,  wherever  they  may  happen  to 
lie,  nothing  is,  and  nothing  can  be,  known.  Now, 
the  usual  practice  with  those  who  dissent  from  this 
general  view  is,  as  I  have  said,  to  choose  the  sec- 
ond, or  negative,  half  of  it  for  attack.  They  tell  us, 
for  example,  that  the  knowledge  of  phenomena 
given  by  science  carries  with  it  by  necessary  impli- 
cation the  knowledge  of  that  which  is  above  phe- 
nomena;  or,  again,  that  the  moral  nature  of  man 
points  to  the  reality  of  ends  and  principles  which 
cannot  be  exhausted  by  any  investigation  into  a 
merely  natural  world  of  causally  related  objects. 
Without  the  least  underrating  such  lines  of  investi- 
gation, I  purpose  here  to  consider,  not  the  negative, 
but  the  positive  half  of  the  naturalistic  system.  I 
shall  leave  for  the  moment  unchallenged  the  state- 


THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM         93 

ment  that  beyond  the  natural  sciences  knowledge  is 
impossible  ;  but  I  shall  venture,  instead,  to  ask  a  few 
questions  as  to  the  character  of  the  knowledge 
which  is  thought  to  be  obtained  within  those  limits. 
I  shall  not  endeavour  to  prove  that  a  scheme  of 
mcrel}"  positive  beliefs,  admirable,  no  doubt,  as  far 
as  it  goes,  is  yet  intellectually  insufficient  unless  it 
be  supplemented  by  a  metaphysical  or  theological 
appendix.  But  I  shall  examine  the  foundations  of 
the  scheme  itself;  and  though  such  criticisms  on  it 
as  I  shall  be  able  to  offer  can  never  be  a  substitute 
for  the  real  work  of  philosophic  construction,  they 
would  seem  to  be  its  fitting  preliminary,  and  one 
whicli  the  succeeding  chapters  may  show  to  be  not 
without  a  profit  of  its  own. 

One  great  metaphysician  has  described  the  sys- 
tem of  another  as  '  shot  out  of  a  pistol,'  meaning 
thereb}'  that  it  was  presented  for  acceptance  with- 
out introductory  proof.  The  criticism  is  true  not 
only  of  the  particular  theory  of  the  Absolute  about 
which  it  was  first  used,  but  about  every  system,  or 
;ilin()st  every  S3'stem,  of  belief  which  has  ever  passed 
current  among  mankind.  Some  subtle  analogy  with 
accepted  doctrines,  some  general  harmony  with  ex- 
isting sentiments  and  modes  of  thought,  has  not  un- 
commonly been  deemed  sufficient  to  justify  the  most 
audacious  conjectures  ;  and  the  history  of  specula- 
tion is  littered  with  theories  whose  authors  seem 
never  to  have  suffered  under  any  overmastering  need 
to   prove   tiie   opinions    which   they   advanced.     No 


94         THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

such  overmastering  need  has,  at  least,  been  felt  in 
the  case  of  '  positive  knowledge,'  and  the  very  cir- 
cumstance that,  alike  in  its  methods  and  in  its  results, 
all  men  are  practically  agreed  to  accept  it  without 
demur,  has  blinded  them  to  the  fact  that  it,  too,  has 
been  '  shot  out  of  a  pistol,'  and  that,  like  some  more 
questionable  beliefs,  it  is  still  waiting  for  a  rational 
justification. 

For  our  too  easy  acquiescence  in  this  state  of 
things  I  do  not  think  science  is  itself  to  blame.  It  is 
no  part  of  its  duty  to  deal  with  first  principles.  Its 
business  is  to  provide  us  with  a  theory  of  Nature ; 
and  it  should  not  be  required,  in  addition,  to  pro- 
vide us  with  a  theory  of  itself.  This  is  a  task  which 
properly  devolves  upon  the  masters  of  speculation  ; 
though  it  is  one  which,  for  various  reasons,  they  have 
not  as  yet  satisfactorily  accomplished.  I  doubt,  in- 
deed, whether  any  metaphysical  philosopher  before 
Kant  can  be  said  to  have  made  contributions  to  this 
subject  which  at  the  present  day  need  be  taken  into 
serious  account ;  and,  as  I  shall  endeavour  to  indicate 
in  the  next  chapter,  Kant's  doctrines,  even  as  modi- 
fied by  his  successors,  do  not,  so  it  seems  to  me,  pro- 
vide a  sound  basis  for  an  '  epistemology  of  Nature.' 

But  if  in  this  connection  we  owe  little  to  the 
metaphysical  philosophers,  we  owe  still  less  to  those 
in  whom  we  had  a  better  right  to  trust,  namely,  the 
empirical  ones.  If  the  former  have  to  some  extent 
neglected  the  theory  of  science  for  theories  of  the 
Absolute,  the  latter  have  always  shown  an  inclination 


THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM         95 

to  sacrifice  the  theory  of  knowledge  itself  to  theories 
as  to  the  genesis  or  growth  of  knowledge.  They 
have  contented  themselves  with  investisfatinsr  the 
primitive  elements  from  which  have  been  developed 
in  the  race  and  in  the  individual  the  completed 
consciousness  of  ourselves  and  of  the  world  in  which 
we  live.  They  have,  therefore,  dealt  with  the  origins 
of  what  we  believe  rather  than  with  its  justification. 
They  have  substituted  psycholog}'  for  philosophy  ; 
they  have  presented  us,  in  short,  with  studies  in  a 
particular  branch  or  department  of  science,  rather 
than  with  an  examination  into  the  grounds  of  science 
in  general.  And  when  perforce  they  are  brought 
face  to  face  with  some  of  the  problems  connected 
with  the  philosophy  of  science  which  most  loudly 
clamour  for  solution,  there  is  something  half-pathetic 
and  half-humorous  in  their  methods  of  cutting  a  knot 
which  they  are  quite  unable  to  untie.  Can  anything, 
for  example,  be  more  naive  than  the  undisturbed 
serenity  with  which  Locke,  towards  the  end  of  his 
great  work,  assures  his  readers  that  he  '  suspects  that 
natural  philosoph}^  is  not  capable  of  being  made  a 
science';  or,  as  I  should  prefer  to  state  it,  that  nat- 
ural science  is  not  capable  oi  being  made  a  philoso- 
jjh}'  ?  Or  can  anything  be  more  characteristic  than 
the  moral  which  he  draws  from  this  rather  surprising 
admission,  namely,  that  as  we  are  so  little  litted  to 
fi-ame  theories  about  this  present  world,  we  had  bet- 
ter devote  our  energies  to  preparing  for  the  next  ? 
This  remarkable  display  of  j)hilosophic  resignation 


96         THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

in  the  father  of  modern  empiricism  has  been  imi- 
tated, with  differences,  by  a  long-  line  of  distin- 
guished successors.  Hume,  for  example,  though 
naturally  enough  he  declined  to  draw  Locke's  edify- 
ing conclusion,  did  more  than  anyone  else  to  estab- 
lish Locke's  despairing  premise ;  and  his  inferences 
from  it  are  at  least  equally  singular.  Having  re- 
duced our  belief  in  the  fundamental  principles  of  sci- 
entific interpretation  to  expectations  born  of  habit ; 
having  reduced  the  world  which  is  to  be  interpreted 
to  an  unrelated  series  of  impressions  and  ideas  ;  hav- 
ing by  this  double  process  made  experience  impossi- 
ble and  turned  science  into  foolishness,  he  quietly 
informs  us,  as  the  issue  of  the  whole  matter,  that 
outside  experience  and  science  knowledge  is  impos- 
sible, and  that  all  except  '  mathematical  demonstra- 
tion '  and  'experimental  reasoning' on  'matters  of 
fact '  is  sophistr}'  and  illusion  ! 

1  think  too  well  of  Hume's  speculative  genius 
and  too  ill  of  his  speculative  sincerity  to  doubt  that 
in  making  this  statement  he  spoke,  not  as  a  philoso- 
pher, but  as  a  man  of  the  world,  making  formal 
obeisance  to  the  powers  that  be.  But  what  he  said 
half  ironically,  his  followers  have  said  with  an  un- 
shaken seriousness.  Nothing  in  the  history  of  specu- 
lation is  more  astonishing,  nothing — if  I  am  to  speak 
my  whole  mind — is  more  absurd  than  the  way  in 
which  Hume's  philosophic  progeny — a  most  distin- 
guished race — have,  in  spite  of  all  their  differences, 
yet  been  able  to  agree,  bot]i  that  experience  is  essen- 


THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM         97 

tially  as  Hume  described  it,  and  that  from  such  an 
experience  can  be  rationally  extracted  anything  even 
in  the  remotest  degree  resembling  the  existing  sys- 
tem of  the  natural  sciences.  Like  Locke,  these  gen- 
tlemen, or  some  of  them,  have,  indeed,  been  assailed 
by  momentary  misgivings.  It  seems  occasionally  to 
have  occurred  to  them  that  if  their  theory  of  knowl- 
edge were  adequate,  '  experimental  reasoning,'  as 
Hume  called  it,  was  in  a  very  parlous  state  ;  and 
that,  on  the  merits,  nothing  less  deserved  to  be 
held  with  a  positive  conviction  tiian  what  some  of 
them  are  wont  to  describe  as  '  positive '  knowledge. 
But  they  have  soon  thrust  away  such  unwelcome 
thoughts.  The  self-satisfied  dogmatism  which  is  so 
convenient,  and,  indeed,  so  necessary  a  habit  in  the 
daily  routine  of  life,  has  resumed  its  sway.  They 
have  forgotten  that  they  were  philosophers,  and 
with  true  practical  instincts  have  reserved  their 'ob- 
stinate questionings  '  exclusively  for  the  benefit  of 
opinions  from  which  they  were  already  predisposed 
to  differ. 

Whether  these  historic  reasons  fully  account  for 
the  comparative  neglect  of  a  philosophy  of  science 
I  will  not  venture  to  pronounce.  But  that  the 
neglect  has  been  real  I  cannot  doubt.  Admirable 
generalisations  of  the  actual  methods  of  scientific 
research,  usually  under  some  such  name  as  '  Induc- 
tive Logic,*  we  have  no  doubt  had  in  abundance. 
But  a  full  and  systematic  attempt,  first  to  enumerate, 
and  then  to  justify,  the  [)resuppositions  on  which  all 
7 


98         THE   PHILOSOPHIC    BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

science  finally  rests,  has,  it  seems  to  me,  still  to  be 
made,  and  must  form  no  insignificant  or  secondary 
portion  of  the  task  which  philosophy  has  yet  to 
perform.  To  some,  perhaps  to  most,  it  may,  indeed, 
appear  as  if  such  a  task  were  one  of  perverse  fu- 
tility ;  not  more  useful  and  much  less  dignified  than 
metaphysical  investigations  into  the  nature  of  the 
Absolute.  However  profitless  in  the  opinion  of  the 
objector  these  may  be,  at  least  it  seems  better  to 
strain  after  the  transcendent  than  to  demonstrate 
the  obvious.  And  science,  it  may  well  be  thought, 
is  quite  sure  enough  of  its  ground  to  be  justified  in 
politely  bowing  out  those  who  thus  officiously  ten- 
der it  a  perfectly  superfluous  assistance. 

This  is  a  contention  on  the  merits  of  which  it 
will  only  be  possible  to  pronounce  after  the  critical 
examination  into  the  presuppositions  of  science 
which  I  desiderate  has  been  thoroughly  carried  out. 
It  may  then  appear  that  nothing  stands  more  in  need 
of  demonstration  than  the  obvious;  that  at  the  very 
root  of  our  scientific  system  of  belief  lie  problems  of 
which  no  satisfactory  solution  has  hitherto  been 
devised ;  and  that,  so  far  from  its  being  possible 
to  ignore  the  difificulties  which  these  involve,  no 
general  theor}^  of  knowledge  has  the  least  chance  of 
being  successful  which  does  not  explicitly  include 
within  the  circuit  of  its  criticism,  not  only  the  beliefs 
which  seem  to  us  to  be  dubious,  but  those  also 
which  we  hold  with  the  most  perfect  practical 
assurance. 


THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM  99 

So  much,  at  least,  I  have  endeavoured  to  estab- 
lish in  another  work  to  which  reference  has  been 
already  made.'  And  to  this  I  must  venture  to  refer 
those  readers  who  either  wish  to  see  this  position 
elaborately  developed,  or  who  are  of  opinion  that  I 
have  in  the  preceding  remarks  treated  the  philosophy 
of  the  empirical  school  with  too  scant  a  measure  of 
respect.  The  very  technical  discussion,  however, 
which  it  contains  could  not,  I  think,  be  made  inter- 
esting, or  perhaps  intelligible,  to  the  majority  of  those 
for  whom  this  book  is  intended,  and,  even  were  it 
otherwise,  they  could  not  appropriately  be  intro- 
duced into  the  body  of  these  Notes.  Yet,  though 
this  is  impossible,  it  ought  not,  I  think,  to  be  quite 
impossible  to  convey  some  general  notion  of  the 
sort  of  difficulty  with  which  any  empirical  theory 
of  science  would  seem  to  be  beset,  and  this  without 
requiring  on  the  part  of  the  reader  any  special 
knowledge  of  philosophic  terminology,  or,  indeed, 
any  knowledge  at  all  except  that  of  some  few  very 
general  scientific  doctrines.  If  I  could  succeed, 
li(jwever  imperfectly,  in  such  a  task,  it  might  be  of 
some  slight  service  even  to  the  reader  conversant 
with  empirical  theories  in  all  their  various  forms. 
For  though  he  will,  of  course,  recognise  in  what 
follows  the  familiar  faces  of  many  old  controversies, 
tlie  circumstance  Ihal  they  are  here  a])pi'oached,  not 
fr(;m  the  accustomed  side  of  the  psychology  of  per- 
ception, but  from  that  of  ph3'sics  and   physiology, 

'  Cf.  I'rcfaUJiy  Note. 


100      THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

may  perhaps  give  them  a  freshness  they  would  not 
otherwise  possess. 


II 


In  order  to  hx  our  ideas  let  us  recall,  in  however 
rough  and  incomplete  a  form,  the  broad  outlines  of 
scientific  doctrine  as  it  at  present  exists,  and  as  it 
has  been  developed  from  that  unorganised  knowl- 
edge of  a  world  of  objects — animals,  mountains,  men, 
planets,  trees,  water,  fire,  and  so  forth — which  in  some 
degree  or  other  all  mankind  possess.  These  objects 
science  conceives  as  ordered  and  mutually  related 
in  one  unlimited  space  and  one  unlimited  time  ;  all 
in  their  true  reality  independent  of  the  presence  or 
absence  of  any  observer,  all  governed  in  their  be- 
haviour by  rigid  and  unv^arying  laws.  These  are  its 
material  ;  these  it  is  its  business  to  describe.  Their 
appearance,  their  inner  constitution,  their  environ- 
ment, the  process  of  their  development,  the  modes 
in  which  they  act  and  are  acted  upon — such  and 
such-like  subjects  of  inquiry  constitute  the  problems 
which  science  has  set  itself  to  investigate. 

The  result  of  its  investigations  is  now  embodied 
in  a  general,  if  provisional,  view  of  the  (phenomenal) 
universe  which  is  practically  accepted  without  ques- 
tion by  all  instructed  persons.  According  to  this 
view,  the  world  consists  essentially  of  innumerable 
small  particles  of  definite  and  unchanging  mass, 
endowed  with  a  variety  of  mechanical,  chemical,  and 


THE    PHILOSOPHIC    BASIS    OF   NATURALISM        lOI 

Other  qualities,  and  forming-  by  their  mutual  asso- 
ciation the  various  bodies  which  we  can  handle  and 
see,  and  many  others  which  we  can  neither  handle 
nor  see.  These  ponderable  particles  have  their  being 
in  a  diffused  and  all-penetrating  medium,  or  ether,  of 
which  we  know  little,  except  that  it  possesses,  or 
behaves  as  if  it  possessed,  certain  mechanical  prop- 
erties of  a  very  remarkable  character ;  while  the 
whole  of  this  material  ^  system,  ponderable  particles 
and  ether  alike,  is  animated  (if  the  phrase  may  be 
permitted  me)  by  a  quantity  of  energy  which,  though 
it  varies  in  the  manner  and  place  of  its  manifestation, 
yet  never  varies  in  its  total  amount.  It  only  remains 
to  add,  as  a  fact  of  considerable  importance  to  our- 
selves, though  of  little  apparent  importance  to  the 
universe  at  large,  that  a  few  of  the  material  particles 
above  alluded  to  are  arranged  into  living  organisms, 
and  that  among  these  organisms  are  a  small  minority 
which  have  the  remarkable  power  of  extracting  from 
the  changes  which  take  place  in  certain  of  their 
tissues  i)sychical  phenomena  of  various  kinds;  some 
of  which  are  the  reflection,  or  partial  reproduction 
in    perception    and    in    thought,   of   fragments   and 

'  This  ambiguity  in  the  use  of  the  word  '  matter '  is  apt  to  be  a 
nuisance  in  these  discussions.  The  term  is  sometimes,  and  quite 
properly,  used  only  of  ponderable  matter,  and  in  opposition  to  ether, 
liut  when  we  talk  of  the  '  material  universe,'  it  is  absurd  to  exclude 
from  our  meaning  the  ether,  w^iich  is  the  most  important  part  of  that 
universe,  or  to  deny  materiality  to  a  substance  which  behaves  as  if 
it  were  an  elastic  solid.  The  context  will,  I  hope,  always  show  in 
which  sense  the  word  is  used. 


I02       THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

aspects  of  that  material  world  to  which  they  owe 
their  being. 

Secure  in  this  general  view  of  things,  the  great 
co-operative  work  of  scientific  investigation  moves 
swiftly  on.  The  experimental  psychologist,  if  we 
are  to  begin  at  that  end  of  the  scale,  measures 
'  time  reactions,'  and  other  equally  important  mat- 
ters illustrating  the  relations  of  mind  and  body  ;  the 
physiologist  endeavours  to  surprise  the  secrets  of 
the  living  organ ;  the  biologist  traces  the  develop- 
ment of  the  individual  and  the  mutations  of  the 
species ;  the  chemist  searches  out  the  laws  which 
govern  the  combination  and  reactions  of  atoms  and 
molecules;  the  astronomer  investigates  the  move- 
ments and  the  life  -  histories  of  suns  and  planets; 
while  the  physicist  explores  the  inmost  mysteries  of 
matter  and  energy,  not  unprepared  to  discover  be- 
hind the  invisible  particles  and  the  insensible  move- 
ments with  which  he  familiarly  deals,  explanations 
of  the  material  universe  yet  more  remote  from  the 
unsophisticated  perceptions  of  ordinary  mankind. 

The  philosophic  reader  is  of  course  aware  that 
many  of  the  terms  which  I  have  used,  and  been 
obliged  to  use,  in  this  outline  of  the  scientific  view 
of  the  universe  may  be,  and  have  been,  subjected  to 
philosophic  analysis,  and  often  with  very  curious 
results.  Space,  time,  matter,  energy,  cause,  quality, 
idea,  perception — all  these,  to  mention  no  others,  are 
expressions  without  the  aid  of  which  no  account 
could  be  given  of  the  circle  of  the  sciences ;  though 


THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM       IO3 

every  one  of  them  suggests  a  multitude  of  specula- 
tive problems,  of  which  speculation  has  not  as  yet 
succeeded  in  giving  us  the  final  and  decisive  solu- 
tion. These  problems,  for  the  most  part,  however, 
I  put  on  one  side.  I  take  these  terms  as  I  find 
them ;  in  the  sense,  that  is,  which  everybody  attrib- 
utes to  them  until  he  begins  to  puzzle  himself  with 
too  curious  inquiries  into  their  precise  meaning. 
No  such  embarrassing  investigations  do  I  wish  to 
impose  upon  my  reader.  It  shall  be  agreed  be- 
tween us  that  the  body  of  doctrine  summarised 
above  is,  so  far  as  it  goes,  clear  and  intelligible;  and 
all  I  shall  now  require  of  him  is  to  look  at  it  from  a 
new  point  of  view,  to  approach  it,  as  it  were,  from  a 
different  side,  to  study  it  with  a  new  intention.  In- 
stead, then,  of  asking  what  are  the  beliefs  which 
science  inculcates,  let  us  ask  why,  in  the  last  resort, 
we  hold  them  to  be  true.  Instead  of  inquiring  how 
a  thing  happens,  or  what  it  is,  let  us  inquire  how  we 
know  that  it  does  thus  happen,  and  why  we  believe 
that  so  in  truth  it  is.  Instead  of  enumerating 
causes,  let  us  set  ourselves  to  investigate  reasons. 

Ill 

Now  it  is  at  once  evident  that  the  very  same 
general  bod)-  ol  doctrines,  the  very  same  set  of  prop- 
ositions about  the  *  natural '  world,  arranged  ac- 
cording to  the  principles  suggested  by  these  ques- 
tions, would  fall  into  a  wholly  different  order  from 


I04       THE   PHILOSOPHIC    BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

that  which  would  be  observed  if  its  distribution 
were  g-overned  merely  by  considerations  based  upon 
the  convenience  of  scientific  exposition.  Indeed, 
we  may  say  that  there  are  at  least  four  quite  dif- 
ferent orders,  theoretically  distinguishable,  though 
usually  mixed  up  in  practice,  in  which  scientific 
truth  may  be  expounded.  There  is,  first,  the  order 
of  discovery.  This  is  governed  by  no  rational  prin- 
ciple, but  depends  on  historic  causes,  on  the  acci- 
dents of  individual  genius  and  the  romantic  chances 
of  experiment  and  observation.  There  is,  secondly, 
the  rhetorical  order,  useful  enough  in  its  proper 
place,  in  which,  for  example,  we  proceed  from  the 
simple  to  the  difficult,  or  from  the  striking  to  the 
important,  according  to  the  needs  of  the  hearer. 
There  is,  thirdly,  the  scientific  order,  in  which, 
could  we  only  bring  it  to  perfection,  we  should  pro- 
ceed from  the  abstract  to  the  concrete,  and  from  the 
general  law  to  the  particular  instance,  until  the 
whole  world  of  phenomena  was  gradually  presented 
to  our  gaze  as  a  closely  woven  tissue  of  causes  and 
effects,  infinite  in  its  complexity,  incessant  in  its 
changes,  yet  at  each  moment  proclaiming  to  those 
who  can  hear  and  understand  the  certain  prophecy 
of  its  future  and  the  authentic  record  of  its  past. 
Lastly,  there  is  what,  according  to  the  terminology 
here  employed,  must  be  called  the  philosophic  or- 
der, in  which  the  various  scientific  propositions  or 
dogmas  are,  or  rather  should  be,  arranged  as  a 
series   of   premises   and  conclusions,  starting  from 


THE  PHILOSOPHIC  basis  of  naturalism     105 

those  which  are  axiomatic,  i.e.  for  which  proof  can 
be  neither  given  nor  required,  and  moving  on 
through  a  continuous  series  of  binding  inferences, 
until  the  whole  of  knowledge  is  caught  up  and 
ordered  in  the  meshes  of  this  all-inclusive  dialectical 
network. 

In  its  perfected  shape  it  is  evident  that  the 
j)hilosophic  series,  though  it  reaches  out  to  the 
furthest  confines  of  the  known,  must  for  each  man 
trace  its  origin  to  something  which  he  can  regard  as 
axiomatic  and  self-evident  truth.  There  is  no  theo- 
retical escape  for  any  of  us  from  the  ultimate  '  L' 
What  '  1 '  believe  as  conclusive  must  be  drawn,  by 
some  process  which  '  I '  accept  as  cogent,  from 
something  which  '  I  '  am  obliged  to  regard  as  intrin- 
sically self-sufficient,  beyond  the  reach  of  criticism 
or  the  need  for  proof.  The  philosophic  order  and 
the  scientific  order  of  statement,  therefore,  cannot 
fail  to  be  wholly  different.  While  the  scientific  or- 
der may  start  with  the  dogmatic  enunciation  of 
some  great  generalisation  valid  through  the  whole 
unmeasured  range  of  the  material  universe,  the  philo- 
sophic order  is  perforce  compelled  to  find  its  point  of 
departure  in  the  humble  personality  of  the  inquirer. 
His  grounds  of  belief,  not  the  things  believed  in, 
are  the  subject-matter  of  investigation.  His  reason, 
or,  if  you  like  to  have  it  so,  his  share  of  the  Univer- 
sal Reason,  but  in  any  case  something  which  is  his, 
must  sit  in  judgment,  and  must  try  the  cause.  The 
rights  of  this  tribunal  arc  inalienable,  its  aulhorit}' 


I06       THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

incapable  of  delegation  ;  nor  is  there  any  superior 
court  by  which  the  verdict  it  pronounces  can  be 
reversed. 

If  now  the  question  were  asked,  '  On  what  sort 
of  premises  rests  ultimately  the  scientific  theory 
of  the  world?'  science  and  empirical  philosophy, 
though  they  might  not  agree  on  the  meaning  of 
terms,  would  agree  in  answering,  *  On  premises 
supplied  by  experience.'  It  is  experience  which  has 
given  us  our  first  real  knowledge  of  Nature  and  her 
laws.  It  is  experience,  in  the  shape  of  observation 
and  experiment,  which  has  given  us  the  raw  material 
out  of  which  hypothesis  and  inference  have  slowly 
elaborated  that  richer  conception  of  the  material 
world  which  constitutes  perhaps  the  chief,  and  cer- 
tainly the  most  characteristic,  glory  of  the  modern 
mind. 

What,  then,  is  this  experience?  or,  rather,  let  us 
ask  (so  as  to  avoid  the  appearance  of  trenching  on 
Kantian  ground)  what  are  these  experiences  ?  These 
experiences,  the  experiences  on  which  are  alike 
founded  the  practice  of  the  savage  and  the  theories 
of  the  man  of  science,  are  for  the  most  part  observa- 
tions of  material  things  or  objects,  and  of  their  be- 
haviour in  the  presence  of  or  in  relation  to  each 
other.  These  on  the  empiricalt  heory  of  knowledge, 
supply  the  direct  information,  the  immediate  data 
from  which  all  our  wider  knowledge  ultimately 
draws  its  sanction.  Behind  these  it  is  impossible 
to  go  ;   impossible,  but   also   unnecessary.     For  as 


THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM       IO7 

the  '  evidence  of  the  senses '  does  not  derive  its 
authority  from  any  higher  source,  so  it  is  useless  to 
dispute  its  full  and  indefeasible  title  to  command  our 
assent.  According  to  this  view,  which  is  thcjroughly 
in  accordance  with  common-sense,  science  rests  in 
the  main  upon  the  immediate  judgments  we  form 
about  natural  objects  in  the  act  of  seeing,  hearing, 
and  handling  them.  This  is  the  solid,  if  somewhat 
narrow,  platform  which  provides  us  with  a  foothold 
whence  we  may  reach  upward  into  regions  where 
the  '  senses '  convey  to  us  no  direct  knowledge, 
where  Ave  have  to  do  with  laws  remote  from  our 
personal  observation,  and  with  objects  which  can 
neither  be  seen,  heard,  nor  handled. 


IV 


But  although  such  a  theory  seems  simple  and 
straightforward  enough,  in  perfect  harmony  with  the 
habitual  sentiments  and  the  universal  practice  of 
mankind,  it  would  evidently  be  rash  to  rest  satisfied 
with  it  as  a  philosophy  of  science  until  we  had  at 
least  heard  what  science  itself  has  to  say  upon  the 
subject.  What,  then,  is  the  account  which  science 
gives  of  these  '  immediate  judgments  of  the  senses  '  ? 
Has  it  anything  to  tell  us  about  their  nature,  or  the 
mode  of  their  operation  ?  Without  doubt  it  has  ; 
and  its  teaching  provides  a  curious,  and  at  first 
sight  an  even  startling,  commentary  on  the  com- 
mon-sense version  of  that  philosophy  of  experience 


I08       THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

whose  general  character  has  just  been  indicated 
above. 

For  whereas  common-sense  tells  us  that  our  ex- 
perience of  objects  provides  us  with  a  knowledge  of 
their  nature  which,  so  far  as  it  goes,  is  immediate 
and  direct,  science  informs  us  that  each  particular 
experience  is  itself  but  the  final  link  in  a  long  chain 
of  causes  and  effects,  whose  beginning  is  lost  amid 
the  complexities  of  the  material  world,  and  whose 
ending  is  a  change  of  some  sort  in  the  '  mind '  of 
the  percipient.  It  informs  us,  further,  that  among 
these  innumerable  causes,  the  thing  'immediately 
experienced '  is  but  one  ;  and  is,  moreover,  one 
separated  from  the  'immediate  experience'  which  it 
modestly  assists  in  producing  by  a  very  large  num- 
ber of  intermediate  causes  which  are  never  experi- 
enced at  all. 

Take,  for  example,  an  ordinary  case  of  vision. 
What  are  the  causes  which  ultimately  produce  the 
apparently  immediate  experience  of  (for  example)  a 
green  tree  standing  in  the  nex,t  field  ?  There  are, 
.first  (to  go  no  further  back),  the  vibrations  among 
the  particles  of  the  source  of  light,  say  the  sun. 
Consequent  on  them  are  the  ethereal  undulations 
between  the  sun  and  the  objects  seen,  namely,  the 
green  tree.  Then  follows  the  absorption  of  most  of 
these  undulations  by  the  object ;  the  reflection  of  the 
'  green  '  residue  ;  the  incidence  of  a  small  fraction  of 
these  on  the  lens  of  the  eye ;  their  arrangement  on 
the  retina ;  the  stimulation  of  the  optic  nerve ;  and. 


THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM       IO9 

finally,  the  molecular  change  in  a  certain  tract  of  the 
cerebral  hemispheres  by  which,  in  some  way  or 
other  wholly  unknown,  through  predispositions  in 
part  acquired  by  the  individual,  but  chiefly  inherited 
through  countless  generations  of  ancestors,  is  pro- 
duced the  complex  mental  fact  which  we  describe  by 
saying  that  '  we  have  an  immediate  experience  of  a 
tree  about  fifty  yards  off.' 

Now  the  experience,  the  causes  and  conditions  of 
which  I  have  thus  rudely  outlined,  is  typical  of  all 
the  experiences,  without  exception,  on  which  is  based 
our  knowledge  of  the  material  universe.  Some  of 
these  experiences,  no  doubt,  are  incorrect.  The 
'  evidence  of  the  senses,'  as  the  phrase  goes,  proves 
now  and  then  to  be  fallacious.  But  it  is  proved  to 
be  fallacious  by  other  evidence  of  precisely  the  same 
kind  ;  and  if  we  take  the  trouble  to  trace  back  far 
enough  our  reasons  for  believing  any  scientific  truth 
whatever,  they  always  end  in  some  'immediate 
experience'  or  experiences  of  the  type  described 
above. 

But  the  comparison  thus  inevitably  suggested  be- 
tween 'immediate  experiences'  considered  as  the 
ultimate  basis  of  all  scientific  belief,  and  immediate 
experience  considered  as  an  insignificant  and,  so  to 
speak,  casual  })roduct  of  natural  laws,  suggests  some 
curious  reflections.  1  do  not  allude  to  the  difficulty 
of  understanding  how  a  mental  effect  can  be  pro- 
duced by  a  ])hysical  cause — how  matter  can  act  on 
niiiul.       I  Ik-  problem    I    wisii   In  dwell  011  isnf  (piite 


no      THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

a  different  kind.  It  is  concerned,  not  with  the  nat- 
ure of  the  laws  by  which  the  world  is  governed,  but 
with  their  proof.  It  arises,  not  out  of  the  difficulty 
of  feeling  our  way  slowly  along  the  causal  chain 
from  physical  antecedents  to  mental  consequents, 
but  from  the  difficulty  of  harmonising  this  move- 
ment with  the  opposite  one,  whereby  we  jump  by 
some  instantaneous  effort  of  inferential  activity  from 
these  mental  consequents  to  an  immediate  conviction 
as  to  the  reality  and  character  of  some  of  their  re- 
moter physical  antecedents.  I  am  '  experiencing  ' 
(to  revert  to  our  illustration)  the  tree  in  the  next 
field.  While  looking  at  it  I  begin  to  reflect  upon 
the  double  process  I  have  just  described.  I  remem- 
ber the  long-drawn  series  of  causes,  physical  and 
physiological,  by  which  my  perception  of  the  object 
has  been  produced.  I  realise  that  each  one  of  these 
causes  might  have  been  replaced  by  some  other 
cause  without  altering  the  character  of  the  conse- 
quent perception ;  and  that  if  it  had  been  so  re- 
placed, my  judgment  about  the  object,  though  it 
would  have  been  as  confident  and  as  immediate  as 
at  present,  would  have  been  wrong.  Anything,  for 
instance,  which  would  distribute  similar  green  rays 
on  the  retina  of  my  eyes  in  the  same  pattern  as  that 
produced  by  the  tree,  or  anything  which  would  pro- 
duce a  like  irritation  of  the  optic  nerve  or  a  like 
modification  of  the  cerebral  tissues,  would  give  me 
an  experience  in  itself  quite  indistinguishable  from 
my  experience  of  the  tree,  although  it  has  the  unfort- 


THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM       III 

unate  peculiarity  of  being  wholly  incorrect.  The 
same  message  would  be  delivered,  in  the  same  terms 
and  on  the  same  authority,  but  it  would  be  false. 
And  though  we  are  quite  familiar  with  the  fact  that 
illusions  are  possible  and  that  mistakes  will  occur  in 
the  simplest  observation,  yet  we  can  hardly  avoid 
being  struck  by  the  incongruity  of  a  scheme  of  be- 
lief whose  premises  are  wholly  derived  from  wit- 
nesses admittedly  untrustworthy,  )^et  which  is  un- 
able to  supply  any  criterion,  other  than  the  evidence 
of  these  w^itnesses  themselves,  by  which  the  char- 
acter of  their  evidence  can  in  any  given  case  be  de- 
termined. 

The  fact  that  even  the  most  immediate  experi- 
ences carry  with  them  no  inherent  guarantee  of  their 
veracity  is,  however,  by  far  the  smallest  of  the  diffi- 
culties which  emerge  from  a  comparison  of  the  causal 
movement  from  object  to  perception,  with  the  cogni- 
tive leap  through  perception  to  object.  For  a  very 
slight  consideration  of  the  teaching  of  science  as  to 
the  nature  of  the  first  is  sufficient  to  prove,  not  merely 
the  possible,  but  the  habitual  inaccuracy  of  the  second. 
In  other  words,  we  need  only  to  consider  carefully 
our  perceptions  regarded  as  psychological  results,  in 
order  to  see  that,  regarded  as  sources  of  information, 
they  are  not  merely  occasionally  inaccurate,  but  ha- 
bitually mendacious.  We  are  dealing,  recollect,  with 
a  theory  of  science  according  to  which  the  ultimate 
stress  of  scientific  proof  is  thrown  wholly  upon  our 
immediate  experience  of   objects.     But  nine-tenths 


112       THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

of  our  immediate  experiences  of  objects  are  visual ; 
and  all  visual  experiences,  without  exception,  are, 
according  to  science,  erroneous.  As  everybody 
knows,  colour  is  not  a  property  of  the  thing  seen: 
it  is  a  sensation  produced  in  us  by  that  thing.  The 
thing  itself  consists  of  uncoloured  particles,  which 
become  visible  solely  in  consequence  of  their  power 
of  either  producing  or  reflecting  ethereal  undula- 
tions. The  degrees  of  brightness  and  the  qualities 
of  colour  perceived  in  the  thing,  and  in  virtue  of 
which  alone  any  visual  perception  of  the  thing  is 
possible,  are,  therefore,  according  to  optics,  no  part 
of  its  reality,  but  are  mere  feelings  produced  in  the 
mind  of  the  percipient  by  the  complex  movements 
of  material  molecules,  possessing  mass  and  exten- 
sion, but  to  which  it  is  not  only  incorrect  but  un- 
meaning to  attribute  either  brightness  or  colour. 

From  the  side  of  science  these  are  truisms. 
From  the  side  of  a  theory  or  philosophy  of  science, 
however,  they  are  paradoxes.  It  was  sufficiently 
embarrassing  to  discover  that  the  message  con- 
veyed to  us  by  sensible  experiences  which  the  ob- 
server treats  as  so  direct  and  so  certain  are,  when 
considered  in  transit,  at  one  moment  nothing  but 
vibrations  of  imperceptible  particles,  at  another 
nothing  but  periodic  changes  in  an  unimaginable 
ether,  at  a  third  nothing  but  unknown,  and  perhaps 
unknowable,  modifications  of  nervous  tissue ;  and 
that  none  of  these  various  messengers  carry  with 
them  any  warrant  that  the  judgment  in  which  they 


THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM       II 3 

finally  issue  will  prove  to  be  true.  But  what  are  we 
to  say  about  these  same  experiences  when  we  dis- 
cover, not  only  that  they  may  be  wholly  false,  but 
that  they  are  never  wholly  true?  What  sort  of  a 
system  is  that  which  makes  haste  to  discredit  its 
own  premises?  In  what  entanglements  of  contra- 
diction do  we  not  find  ourselves  involved  by  the 
attempt  to  rest  science  upon  observations  which 
science  itself  asserts  to  be  erroneous?  By  what 
possible  title  do  we  proclaim  the  same  immediate 
experience  to  be  right  when  it  testifies  to  the  inde- 
pendent reality  of  something  solid  and  extended, 
and  to  be  wrong  when  it  testifies  to  the  indepen- 
dent reality  of  something  illuminated  and  coloured? 


V 


There  is,  of  course,  an  answer  to  all  this,  simple 
enough  if  only  it  be  true.  The  whole  theory,  it 
may  be  said,  on  which  we  have  been  proceeding  is 
untenable,  the  undigested  product  of  crude  com- 
mon-sense. The  bugbear  which  frightens  us  is  of 
our  own  creation.  We  have  no  immediate  expe- 
rience of  independent  things  such  as  has  been 
gratuitously  supposed.  What  science  tells  us  of  the 
colour  clement  in  our  visual  perceptions,  namely, 
that  it  is  merely  a  feeling  or  sensation,  is  true  of 
every  element  in  every  perception.  We  are  di- 
rectly cognisant  of  nothing  but  the  mental  results 

of   cerebral   changes':  all  else  is  a  matter  of  infcr- 
8 


114       THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

ence;  a  hypothesis,  more  or  less  well  established, 
to  account  for  the  existence  of  the  only  realities  of 
which  we  have  first-hand  experience— namely,  the 
mental  results  themselves. 

Now  this  theory  does  at  first  sight  undoubtedly 
appear  to  harmonise  with  the  general  teaching  of 
science  on  the  subject  of  mental  physiology.     This 
teaching,  as  ordinarily  expounded,  assumes  through- 
out  a   material   world    of   objects   and   a  psychical 
world  of  feelings  and  ideas.     The  latter  is  in  all 
cases  the  product  of  the  former.     In  some  cases  it 
may  be  a  copy  or  partial  reflection  of  the  former. 
In  no  case  is  it  identified  with  the  former.     When, 
therefore,  I  am  in  the  act  of  experiencing  a  tree  in 
the  next  field,  what  on  this  theory  I  am  really  doing 
is  inferring  from  the  fact  of  my  having  certain  feel- 
ings the  existence  of  a  cause  having  qualities  ade- 
quate to  produce  them.     It  is  true  that  the  process 
of  inference  is  so  rapid  and  habitual  that  we  are  un- 
conscious of  performing  it.     It  is  also  true  that  the 
inference  is  quite  differently  performed  by  the  nat- 
ural man  in  his  natural  moments  and  the  scientific 
man  in  his  scientific  moments.     For,  whereas  the 
natural  man  infers  the  existence  of  a  material  object 
which  in  all  respects  resembles  his  idea  of  it,  the 
scientific  man  knows  very  well  that  the  material  ob- 
ject only  resembles  his  ideas  of  it  in  certain  partic- 
ulars—  extension,  solidity,  and  so  forth  —  and  that 
in  respect  of  such  attributes  as  colour  and  illumi- 
nation there  is  no  resemblance  at  all.     Nevertheless, 


THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM       II 5 

in  all  cases,  whether  there  be  resemblance  between 
them  or  not,  the  material  fact  is  a  conclusion  from 
the  mental  fact,  with  which  last  alone  we  can  be 
said  to  be,  so  to  speak,  in  any  immediate  empirical 
relation. 

As  this  theory  regarding  the  sources  of  our 
knowledge  of  the  material  world  fits  in  with  the 
habitual  language  of  mental  physiology,  so  also  it 
fits  in  with  the  first  instincts  of  speculative  analysis. 
It  is,  I  suppose,  one  of  the  earliest  discoveries  of  the 
metaph3'sically  minded  youth  that  he  can,  if  he  so 
wills  it,  change  his  point  of  view,  and  thereby  sud- 
denly convert  what  in  ordinary  moments  seem  the 
solid  realities  of  this  material  universe,  into  an  un- 
ending pageant  of  feelings  and  ideas,  moving  in 
long  procession  across  his  mental  stage,  and  having 
from  the  nature  of  the  case  no  independent  being 
before  they  appear,  nor  retaining  any  after  they 
vanish. 

But  however  plausible  be  this  correction  of  com- 
mon-sense, it  has  its  difficulties.  In  the  first  place, 
it  involves  a  complete  divorce  between  the  practice 
of  science  and  its  theory.  It  is  all  very  well  to  say 
that  the  scientific  account  of  mental  physiology  in 
general,  and  of  sense-perception  in  particular,  re- 
quires us  to  hold  that  what  is  immediately  expe- 
rienced are  mental  facts,  and  that  our  knowledge  of 
physical  facts  is  but  mediate  and  inferential.  Such 
a  conclusion  is  quite  out  of  harmony  with  its  own 
premises,    since    the    propositions   on    which,    as    a 


Il6       THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF  NATURALISM 

matter  of  historical  verity,  science  is  ultimately 
founded  are  not  propositions  about  states  of  mind, 
but  about  material  things.  The  observations  on 
which  are  built,  for  example,  our  knowledge  of  anat- 
omy or  our  knowledge  of  chemistry  were  not,  in 
the  opinion  of  those  who  originally  made  them  or 
have  since  confirmed  them,  observations  of  their 
own  feelings,  but  of  objects  thought  of  as  wholly 
independent  of  the  observer.  They  may  have  been 
mistaken.  Such  observations  may  be  impossible. 
But,  possible  or  impossible,  they  were  believed  to 
have  occurred,  and  on  that  belief  depends  the 
whole  empirical  evidence  of  science  as  scientific 
discoverers  themselves  conceive  it. 

The  reader  will,  I  hope,  understand  that  I  am 
not  here  arguing  that  the  theory  of  experience  now 
under  consideration,  the  theory,  that  is,  which  con- 
fines the  field  of  immediate  experience  to  our  own 
states  of  mind,  is  inconsistent  with  science,  or  even 
that  it  supplies  an  inadequate  empirical  basis  for 
science.  On  these  points  I  may  have  a  word  to  say 
presently.  My  present  contention  simply  is,  that  it 
is  not  experience  tJius  understood  which  has  supplied 
men  of  science  with  their  knowledge  of  the  physical 
universe.  They  have  never  suspected  that,  while 
they  supposed  themselves  to  be  perceiving  inde- 
pendent material  objects,  their  qualities  and  their 
behaviour,  they  were  in  reality  perceiving  quite  an- 
other set  of  things,  namely,  feelings  and  sensations 
of  a  particular  kind,  grouped   in  particular  ways, 


THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM        II 7 

and  succeeding  each  other  in  a  particular  order. 
Nor,  if  this  idea  had  ever  occurred  to  them,  would 
they  have  admitted  that  these  two  classes  of  things 
could  by  any  merely  verbal  manipulation  be  made 
the  same.  So  that  if  this  particular  account  of  the 
nature  of  experience  be  accurate,  the  system  of 
tliought  represented  by  science  presents  the  singu- 
lar spectacle  of  a  creed  which  is  believed  in  practice 
for  one  set  of  reasons,  though  in  theory  it  can  only 
be  justified  by  another;  and  which,  through  some 
beneficent  accident,  turns  out  to  be  true,  though 
its  origin  and  each  subsequent  stage  in  its  gradual 
development  are  the  product  of  error  and  illusion. 

This  is  perplexing  enough.  Yet  an  even  stronger 
statement  would  seem  to  be  justified.  We  must  not 
only  say  that  the  experiences  on  which  science  is 
founded  have  been  invariably  misinterpreted  by  those 
who  underwent  them,  but  that,  if  they  had  not  been 
so  misinterpreted,  science  as  we  know  it  would 
never  have  existed.  We'  have  not  merely  stumbled 
on  the  truth  in  spite  of  error  and  illusion,  which  is 
odd,  but  because  of  error  and  illusion,  which  is  even 
odder.  For  if  the  scientific  observers  of  Nature  had 
realised  from  the  beginning  that  all  they  were  observ- 
ing was  their  own  feelings  and  ideas,  as  empirical 
idealism  and  mental  j)hvsiology  alike  require  us  to 
hold,  they  surely  would  never  have  taken  the  trouble 
to  invent  a  Nature  {i.e.  an  independently  existing 
system  of  material  things)  for  no  other  purpose  than 
to  provide  a  machinery  by  which  the  occurrence  of 


Il8       THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

feelings  and  ideas  might  be  adequately  accounted 
for.  To  go  through  so  much  to  get  so  little,  to 
bewilder  themselves  in  the  ever-increasing  intricacies 
of  this  hypothetical  wheel -work,  to  pile  world  on 
world  and  add  infinity  to  infinity,  and  all  for  no  more 
important  object  than  to  find  an  explanation  for  a 
few  fleeting  impressions,  say  of  colour  or  resistance, 
would,  indeed,  have  seemed  to  them  a  most  super- 
fluous labour.  Nor  is  it  possible  to  doubt  that  this 
task  has  been  undertaken  and  partially  accomplished 
only  because  humanity  has  been,  as  for  the  most  part 
it  still  is,  under  the  belief  not  only  that  there  exists  a 
universe  possessing  the  independence  which  science 
and  common-sense  alike  postulate,  but  that  it  is  a 
universe  immediately,  if  imperfectly,  revealed  to  us 
in  the  deliverances  of  sense-perception. 


VI 


We  can  scarcely  den}^,  then,  though  the  paradox 
be  hard  of  digestion,  that,  historically  speaking,  if 
the  theory  we  are  discussing  be  true,  science  owes 
its  being  to  an  erroneous  view  as  to  what  kind  of 
information  it  is  that  our  experiences  directly  convey 
to  us.  But  a  much  more  important  question  than 
the  merely  historical  one  remains  behind,  namely, 
whether,  from  the  kind  of  information  which  our  ex- 
periences do  thus  directly  convey  to  us,  anything  at 
all  resembling  the  scientific  theory  of  Nature  can  be 
reasonably  extracted.     Can  our  revised   conception 


THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM       II9 

of  the  material  world  really  be  inferred  from  our 
revised  conception  of  the  import  and  limits  of  ex- 
perience ?  Can  we  by  any  possible  treatment  of 
sensations  and  feelings  legitimately  squeeze  out  of 
them  trustworthy  knowledge  of  the  permanent  and 
independent  material  universe  of  which,  according 
to  science,  sensations  and  feelings  are  but  transient 
and  evanescent  effects  ? 

I  cannot  imagine  the  process  by  which  such  a 
result  may  be  attained,  nor  has  it  been  satisfactorily 
explained  to  us  by  any  apologist  of  the  empirical 
theor}^  of  knowledge.  We  may,  no  doubt,  argue 
that  sensations  and  feelings,  like  everything  else, 
must  have  a  cause  ;  that  the  hypothesis  of  a  material 
world  suggests  such  a  cause  in  a  form  which  is 
agreeable  to  our  natural  beliefs ;  and  that  it  is  a 
hypothesis  we  are  justified  in  adopting  when  we  find 
that  it  enables  us  to  anticipate  the  order  and  char- 
acter of  that  stream  of  perceptions  which  it  is  called 
into  existence  to  explain.  But  this  is  a  line  of  argu- 
ment which  really  will  not  bear  examination.  Every 
one  of  the  three  propositions  of  which  it  consists  is, 
if  we  arc  to  go  back  to  fundamental  principles,  either 
disputable  or  erroneous.  The  principle  of  causation 
cannot  be  extracted  out  of  a  succession  of  individual 
experiences,  as  is  implied  by  the  first.  The  world 
described  by  science  is  not  congruous  wath  our 
natural  beliefs,  as  is  alleged  by  the  second.  Nor  can 
we  legitimately  reason  back  from  effect  to  cause  in 
the  manner  required  by  the  tliird. 


I20       THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

A  very  brief  comment  will,  1  think,  be  sufficient 
to  make  this  clear,  and  I  proceed  to  offer  it  on  each  of 
the  three  propositions,  taking  them,  for  convenience, 
in  the  reverse  order,  and  beginning,  therefore,  with 
the  third.  This  in  effect  declares  that  as  the  material 
world  described  by  science  would,  if  it  existed,  pro- 
duce sensations  and  impressions  in  the  very  manner 
in  which  our  experiences  assure  us  that  they  actual- 
ly occur,  we  may  assume  that  such  a  world  exists. 
But  may  we  ?  Even  supposing  that  there  was  this 
complete  correspondence  between  theory  and  fact, 
which  is  far,  unfortunately,  from  being  at  present 
the  case,  are  we  justified  in  making  so  bold  a  logical 
leap  from  the  known  to  the  unknown?  I  doubt  it. 
Recollect  that  by  hypothesis  we  are  strictly  im- 
prisoned, so  far  as  direct  experiences  are  concerned, 
within  the  circle  of  sensations  or  impressions.  It  is 
in  this  self-centred  universe  alone,  therefore,  that 
we  can  collect  the  premises  of  further  knowledge. 
How  can  it  possibly  supply  us  with  any  principles 
of  selection  by  which  to  decide  between  the  various 
kinds  of  cause  that  may,  for  anything  we  know  to 
the  contrary,  have  had  a  hand  in  its  production? 
None  of  these  kinds  of  cause  are  open  to  observa- 
tion. All  must,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  be 
purely  conjectural.  Because,  therefore,  we  happen 
to  have  thought  of  one  which,  with  a  little  goodwill, 
can  be  forced  into  a  rude  correspondence  with  the 
observed  facts,  shall  we,  oblivious  of  the  million 
possible  explanations  which  a  superior  intelligence 


THE    PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM       121 

might  be  able  to  devise,  proceed  to  decorate  our 
particular  fancy  with  the  title  of  the  '  Real  World  '  ? 
If  we  do  so,  it  is  not,  as  the  candid  reader  will  be 
prepared  to  admit,  because  such  a  conclusion  is 
justified  by  such  premises,  but  because  we  are  pre- 
disposed to  a  conclusion  of  this  kind  by  those 
instinctive  beliefs  which,  in  unreflective  moments, 
the  philosopher  shares  with  the  savage.  In  such 
moments  all  men  conceive  themselves  (by  hypoth- 
esis erroneously)  as  having  direct  experiences  of 
an  independent  material  universe.  When,  therefore, 
science,  or  philosophers  on  behalf  of  science,  pro- 
ceed to  infer  such  a  universe  from  impressions  of 
extension,  resistance,  and  so  forth,  they  find  them- 
selves, so  far,  in  an  unnatural  and  quite  illegitimate 
alliance  with  common-sense.  By  procedures  which 
are  different,  and  essentially  inconsistent,  the  two 
parties  have  found  it  possible  to  reach  results  which 
at  first  sight  look  very  much  the  same.  Immediate 
intuitions  wrongly  interpreted  come  to  the  aid  of 
mediate  inferences  illegitimately  constructed  ;  we 
find  ourselves  quite  prepared  to  accept  the  conclu- 
sions of  bad  reasoning,  because  they  have  a  partial 
though,  as  I  shall  now  proceed  to  show,  an  illusory 
resemblance  to  the  deliverances  of  uncriticised  ex- 
perience. 

This,  it  will  be  observed,  is  the  subject  dealt 
with  in  the  second  of  the  three  propositions  on 
which  I  am  engaged  in  commenting.  It  alleges  that 
the  world  described  by  science  is  congruous  with 


122       THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

our  natural  beliefs ;  a  thesis  not  very  important  in 
itself,  which  I  only  dwell  on  now  because  it  affords 
a  convenient  text  from  which  to  preach  the  great 
oddity  of  the  creed  which  science  requires  us  to 
adopt  respecting  the  world  in  which  we  live.  This 
creed  is  evidently  in  its  origin  an  amendment  or 
modification  of  the  natural  or  instinctive  view  ol 
things,  a  compromise  to  which  we  are  no  doubt 
compelled  by  considerations  of  conclusive  force,  but 
a  compromise,  nevertheless,  which,  if  we  did  not 
know  it  to  be  true,  we  should  certainly  find  it  diffi- 
cult not  to  abandon  as  absurd. 

For,  consider  what  kind  of  a  world  it  is  in  which 
we  are  asked  to  believe — a  world  which,  so  far  as 
most  people  are  concerned,  can  only  be  at  all 
adequately  conceived  in  terms  of  the  visual  sense, 
but  which  in  its  true  reality  possesses  neither  of  the 
qualities  characteristically  associated  with  the  visual 
sense,  namely,  illumination  and  colour.  A  world 
which  is  half  like  our  ideas  of  it  and  half  unlike 
them.  Like  our  ideas  of  it,  that  is  to  say,  so  far  as 
the  so-called  primary  qualities  of  matter,  such  as 
extension  and  solidity,  are  concerned  ;  unlike  our 
ideas  of  it  so  far  as  the  so-called  secondary  qualities, 
such  as  warmth  and  colour,  are  concerned.  A 
hybrid  world,  a  world  of  inconsistencies  and  strange 
anomalies.  A  world  one-half  of  which  may  com- 
mend itself  to  the  empirical  philosopher,  and  the 
other  half  of  which  may  commend  itself  to  the  plain 
man,  but  which  as  a  whole  can  commend  itself  to 


THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OP'   NAIURALISM        123 

neither.  A  world  which  is  rejected  by  the  first  be- 
cause it  arbitrarily  selects  what  he  regards  as  modes 
of  sensation,  and  hypostatises  them  into  permanent 
realities ;  while  it  is  scarcely  intelligible  to  the 
second,  because  it  takes  what  he  regards  as  perma- 
nent realities,  and  evaporates  them  into  modes  of 
sensation.  A  world,  in  short,  which  seems  to 
harmonise  neither  with  the  conclusions  of  critical 
empiricism  nor  with  the  '  unmistakable  evidence  of 
the  senses ' ;  which  outrages  the  whole  psychology 
of  the  one,  and  is  in  direct  contradiction  with  the 
other. 

So  far  as  the  leading  philosophic  empiricists  are 
concerned — and  it  is  only  with  them  that  we  need 
deal — the  result  of  these  difficulties  has  been  extra- 
ordinary. They  have  found  it  impossible  to  swal- 
low this  strange  universe,  consisting  partly  of 
microcosms  furnished  with  impressions  and  ideas 
which,  as  such,  are  of  course  transient  and  essenti- 
ally mental,  partly  of  a  macrocosm  furnished  with 
material  objects  whose  qualities  exactly  resemble 
impressions  and  ideas,  with  the  embarrassing  ex- 
ception that  they  are  neither  transient  nor  mental. 
They  have,  therefore,  been  compelled  by  one  device 
or  another  to  sweep  the  macrocosm  as  conceived  by 
science  altogether  out  of  existence.  In  the  name  of 
experience  itself  they  have  destroyed  that  which 
professes  to  be  experience  systematised.  And  we 
arc  presented  with  the  singular  spectacle  of  thinkers 
whose  claim  to  our  consideration  largely  consists  in 


124      THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

their  uncompromising  empiricism  playing  uncon- 
scious havoc  with  the  most  solid  results  which  em- 
pirical methods  have  hitherto  attained. 

I  say  'unconscious'  havoc,  because,  no  doubt,  the 
truth  of  this  indictment  would  not  be  admitted  by 
the  majority  of  those  against  whom  it  is  directed. 
Yet  there  can,  I  think,  be  no  real  question  as  to  its 
truth.  In  the  case  of  Hume  it  will  hardly  be 
denied ;  and  Hume,  perhaps,  would  himself  have 
been  the  last  to  deny  it.  But  in  the  case  of  John 
Mill,  of  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer,^  and  of  Professor 
Huxley,  it  is  an  allegation  which  would  certainly  be 
repudiated,  though  the  evidence  for  it  seems  to  me 
to  lie  upon  the  surface  of  their  speculations.  The 
allegation,  be  it  observed,  is  this — that  while  each 
of  these  thinkers  has  recognised  the  necessity  for 
some  independent  reality  in  relation  to  the  ever- 
moving  stream  of  sensations  which  constitute  our 
immediate  experiences,  each  of  them  has  rejected 
the  independent  reality  which  is  postulated  and  ex- 
plained by  science,  and  each  of  them  has  substituted 
for  it  a  private  reality  of  his  own.  Where  the 
physicist,  for  example,  assumes  actual  atoms  and 
motions  and  forces,  Mill  saw  nothing  but  permanent 
possibilities  of  sensation,  and   Mr.   Spencer  knows 

'  It  is  probably  accurate  to  describe  Mr.  Spencer  as  an  empiri- 
cist ;  though  he  has  added  to  the  accustomed  first  principles  of  em- 
piricism certain  doctrines  of  his  own  -which,  while  they  do  not 
strengthen  his  system,  make  it  somewhat  difificult  to  classify.  The 
reader  interested  in  such  matters  will  find  most  of  the  relevant 
points  discussed  in  Philosophic  Doubt,  chaps,  viii.,  ix.,  x. 


THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM        1 25 

nothing  but  '  the  unknowable.'  Without  discussing 
the  place  which  such  entities  may  properly  occupy 
in  the  general  scheme  of  things,  I  content  myself 
with  observing,  what  I  have  elsewhere  endeavoured 
to  demonstrate  at  length,  that  they  cannot  occupy 
the  place  now  filled  by  material  Nature  as  conceived 
by  science.  That  which  is  a  '  permanent  possibil- 
ity,' but  is  nothing  more,  is  permanent  only  in  name. 
It  represents  no  enduring  reality,  nothing  which 
persists,  nothing  which  has  any  being  save  during 
the  brief  intervals  when,  ceasing  to  be  a  mere 
'  possibility,'  it  blossoms  into  the  actuality  of  sen- 
sation. Before  sentient  beings  were,  it  was  not. 
When  they  cease  to  exist,  it  will  vanish  away.  If 
they  change  the  character  of  their  sensibility,  it  will 
sympathetically  vary  its  nature.  How  unfit  is  this 
unsubstantial  shadow  of  a  phrase  to  take  the  place 
now  occupied  by  that  material  universe,  of  which 
we  are  but  fleeting  accidents,  whose  attributes  are 
for  the  most  part  absolutely  independent  of  us, 
whose  duration  is  incalculable  ! 

A  different  but  not  a  less  conclusive  criticism 
may  be  passed  on  Mr.  Spencer's  '  unknowable.'  For 
anything  I  am  here  prepared  to  allege  to  the  con- 
trary, this  may  be  real  enough  ;  but,  unfortunately, 
it  has  not  the  kind  of  reality  imperatively  required 
by  science.  It  is  not  in  space.  It  is  not  in  time. 
It  possesses  neither  mass  nor  extension  ;  nor  is  it 
capable  of  motion.  Its  very  name  implies  that  it 
eludes  the  grasp  of  thought,  and  cannot  be  caugiit 


126       THE   PHILOSOPHIC    BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

up  into  formulae.  Whatever  purpose,  therefore, 
such  an  'object'  may  subserve  in  the  universe  of 
things,  it  is  as  useless  as  a  '  permanent  possibility  * 
itself  to  provide  subject-matter  for  scientific  treat- 
ment. If  these  be  all  that  truly  exist  outside  the 
circle  of  impressions  and  ideas,  then  is  all  science 
turned  to  foolishness,  and  evolution  stands  confessed 
as  a  mere  figment  of  the  imagination.  Man,  or 
rather  '  I,'  become  not  merely  the  centre  of  the 
world,  but  am  the  world.  Beyond  me  and  my  ideas 
there  is  cither  nothing,  or  nothing  that  can  be  known. 
The  problems  about  which  we  disquiet  ourselves  in 
vain,  the  origin  of  things  and  the  modes  of  their  de- 
velopment, the  inner  constitution  of  matter  and  its 
relations  to  mind,  are  questionings  about  nothing, 
interrogatories  shouted  into  the  void.  The  baseless 
fabric  of  the  sciences,  like  the  great  globe  itself,  dis- 
solves at  the  touch  of  theories  like  these,  leaving  not 
a  wrack  behind.  Nor  does  there  seem  to  be  any 
course  open  to  the  consistent  agnostic,  were  such  a 
being  possible,  than  to  contemplate  in  patience  the 
long  procession  of  his  sensations,  without  disturbing 
himself  with  futile  inquiries  into  what,  if  anything, 
may  lie  beyond. 


VII 


There  remains  but  one  problem  further  with 
which  I  need  trouble  the  readers  of  this  chapter.  It 
is  that  raised  by  the  only  remaining  proposition  of 


THE    PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM       \2J 

the  three  with  which  I  promised  just  now  to  deal. 
This  asserts,  it  may  be  recollected,  that  the  principle 
of  causation  and,  b}'  parity  of  reasoning,  any  other 
universal  principle  of  sense-interpretation,  may  by 
some  process  of  logical  alchemy  be  extracted,  not 
merely  from  experience  in  general, ^  but  even  from 
the  experience  of  a  single  individual. 

But  who,  it  may  be  asked,  is  unreasonable  enough 
to  demand  that  it  should  be  extracted  from  the  ex- 
perience of  a  single  individual?  What  is  there  in 
the  empirical  theory  which  requires  us  to  impose  so 
arbitrary  a  limitation  upon  the  sources  of  our  knowl- 
edge? Have  we  not  behind  us  the  whole  experience 
of  the  race  ?  Is  it  to  count  for  nothing  that  for  num- 
berless generations  mankind  has  been  scrutinisinsf 
the  face  of  Nature,  and  storing  up  for  our  guidance 
innumerable  observations  of  the  laws  which  she 
obeys?  Yes,  I  reply,  it  is  to  count  for  nothing;  and 
for  a  most  simple  reason.  In  making  this  appeal  to 
the  testimony  of  mankind  with  regard  to  the  world 
in  which  they  live,  we  take  for  granted  that  there  is 
such  a  world,  that  mankind  has  had  experiences  of 
it,  and  that,  so  far  as  is  necessary  for  our  purpose, 
we  know  what  those  experiences  have  been.  But 
by  what  right  do  we  take  those  things  for  granted  ? 
They  are  not  axiomatic  or  intuitive  truths ;  they 
must  be  proved  by  something;  and  that  something 
must,  on  the  empirical  theory,  be  in  the  last  resort 
experience,  and   experience  alone.     But   whose  cx- 

'  .Sec  /'/ii/os,>/>/i/c  Doiil't,  cli.  i. 


128       THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

perience  ?  Plainly  it  cannot  be  general  experience, 
for  that  is  the  very  thing  whose  reality  has  to  be  es- 
tablished, and  whose  character  is  in  question.  It 
must,  therefore,  in  every  case  and  for  each  individual 
man  be  his  own  personal  experience.  This,  and  only 
this,  can  supply  him  with  evidence  for  those  funda- 
mental beliefs,  without  whose  guidance  it  is  impos- 
sible for  him  either  to  reconstruct  the  past  or  to  an- 
ticipate the  future. 

Consider,  for  example,  the  law  of  causation ;  one, 
but  by  no  means  the  only  one,  of  those  general  prin- 
ciples of  interpretation  which,  as  I  am  contending, 
are  presupposed  in  any  appeal  to  general  experience, 
and  cannot,  therefore,  be  proved  by  it.  If  we  en- 
deavour to  analyse  the  reasoning  by  which  we  ar- 
rive at  the  conviction  that  any  particular  event  or 
any  number  of  particular  events  have  occurred  out- 
side the  narrow  ring  of  our  own  immediate  percep- 
tions, we  shall  find  that  not  a  step  of  this  process 
can  we  take  without  assuming  that  the  course  of 
Nature  is  uniform ' ;  or,  if  not  absolutely  uniform,  at 
least  sufficiently  uniform  to  allow  us  to  argue  with 
tolerable  security  from  effects  to  causes,  or,  if  need 
be,  from  causes  to  effects,  over  great  intervals  of 
time  and  space.  The  whole  of  what  is  called  his- 
torical evidence  is,  in  its  most  essential  parts,  noth- 

'  The  reader  will  find  some  observations  on  the  meaning  of  the 
phrase,  '  Uniformity  of  Nature,'  in  the  last  chapter  of  this  Essay. 
In  this  chapter  I  have  assumed  (following  empirical  usage)  that  the 
Uniformity  of  Nature  and  the  Law  of  Causation  are  different  ex- 
pressions for  the  same  thing. 


THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM        129 

ing  more  than  an  argument  or  series  of  arguments 
of  this  kind.  The  fact  that  mankind  have  given 
their  testimony  to  the  general  uniformity  of  Nature, 
or,  indeed,  to  anything  else,  can  be  established  by 
the  aid  of  that  principle  itself,  and  by  it  alone ;  so 
that  if  we  abandon  it,  we  are  in  a  moment  deprived 
of  all  logical  access  to  the  outer  world,  of  all  cogni- 
sance of  other  minds,  of  all  usufruct  of  their  accu- 
mulated knowledge,  of  all  share  in  the  intellectual 
heritage  of  the  race.  While  if  we  cling  to  it  (as,  to 
be  sure,  we  must,  whether  we  like  it  or  not),  we  can 
do  so  only  on  condition  that  we  forego  every  en- 
deavour to  prove  it  by  the  aid  of  general  experience ; 
for  such  a  procedure  would  be  nothing  less  than  to 
compel  what  is  intended  to  be  the  conclusion  of  our 
argument  to  figure  also  among  the  most  important 
of  its  premises. 

The  problem,  therefore,  is  reduced  to  this :  Can 
we  find  in  our  personal  experience  adequate  evi- 
dence of  a  law  which,  like  the  law  of  Causation, 
does,  by  the  very  terms  in  which  it  is  stated,  claim 
universal  jurisdiction,  as  of  right,  to  the  utmost 
verge  both  of  time  and  space.  And  surely,  to  enun- 
ciate such  a  question  is  to  suggest  the  inevitable 
answer.  The  sequences  familiar  to  us  in  the  petty 
round  of  daily  life,  the  accustomed  recurrence  of 
something  resembling  a  former  consequent,  follow- 
ing on  the  heels  of  something  resembling  a  former 
antecedent,  are  sufficient  to  generate  the  expecta- 
tions and  the  habits  by  which  we  endeavour,  with 
9 


I30      THE   PHILOSOPHIC    BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

what  success  we  may,  to  accommodate  our  behav- 
iour to  the  unyielding  requirements  of  the  world 
around  us.  But  to  throw  upon  experiences  such  as 
these  ^  the  whole  burden  of  fixing  our  opinions  as  to 
the  constitution  of  the  universe  is  quite  absurd.  It 
would  be  absurd  in  any  case.  It  would  be  absurd 
even  if  all  the  phenomena  of  which  we  have  imme- 
diate knowledge  succeeded  each  other  according  to 
some  obvious  and  undeviating  order  ;  for  the  con- 
trast between  this  microscopic  range  of  observation 
and  the  gigantic  induction  which  it  is  sought  to  rest 
thereon,  would  rob  the  argument  of  all  plausibility. 
But  it  is  doubly  and  trebly  absurd  when  we  reflect 
on  what  our  experiences  really  are.  So  far  are  they 
from  indicating,  when  taken  strictly  by  themselves, 
the  existence  of  a  world  where  all  things  small  and 
great  follow  with  the  most  exquisite  regularity  and 
the  most  minute  obedience  the  biddinof  of  unchansf- 
ing  law,  that  they  indicate  precisely  the  reverse.  In 
certain  regions  of  experience,  no  doubt,  orderly  se- 
quence appears  to  be  the  rule  :  day  alternates  with 
night,  and  summer  follows  upon  spring ;  the  sun 
moves  through  the  zodiac,  and  unsupported  bodies 
fall  usually,  though,  to  be  sure,  not  always,  to  the 
ground.  Even  of  such  elementary  astronomical  and 
physical  facts,  however,  it  could  hardly  be  main- 
tained that  any  man  would  have  a  right,  on  the 
strength  of  his  personal  observation  alone,  confident- 

'  At  least  in  the  absence  of  any  transcendental  interpretation  of 
them.     See  next  chapter. 


THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM       131 

ly  to  assert  their  undcviating  regularity.  But  when 
we  come  to  the  more  complex  phenomena  with 
which  we  have  to  deal,  the  plain  lesson  taught  by 
personal  observation  is  not  the  regularity,  but  the 
irregularity,  of  Nature.  A  kind  of  ineffectual  at- 
tempt at  uniformity,  no  doubt,  is  commonly  appar- 
ent, as  of  an  ill-constructed  machine  that  will  run 
smoothly  for  a  time,  and  then  for  no  apparent  reason 
begin  to  jerk  and  quiver;  or  of  a  drunken  man  who, 
though  he  succeeds  in  keeping  to  the  high-road,  yet 
pursues  along  it  a  most  wavering  and  devious  course. 
But  of  that  perfect  adjustment,  that  all-penetrating 
governance  by  law,  which  lies  at  the  root  of  scientific 
inference  we  find  not  a  trace.  In  many  cases  sensa- 
tion follows  sensation,  and  event  hurries  after  event, 
to  all  appearances  absolutely  at  random :  no  ob- 
served order  of  succession  is  ever  repeated,  nor  is  it 
pretended  that  there  is  any  direct  causal  connection 
between  the  members  of  the  series  as  they  appear 
one  after  the  other  in  the  consciousness  of  the  indi- 
vidual. But  even  when  these  conditions  are  reversed, 
perfect  uniformity  is  never  observed.  The  most 
careful  series  of  experiments  carried  out  by  the  most 
accomplished  investigators  never  show  identical  re- 
sults; and  as  for  the  general  mass  of  mankind,  so  far 
arc  they  from  finding,  cither  in  their  personal  experi- 
ences or  elsewhere,  any  sufificient  reason  for  accept- 
ing in  its  perfected  form  the  principle  of  Universal 
Causation,  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  this  doctrine  has 
been  steadily  ignored  by  them  up  to  the  present  hour. 


132       THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

This  apparent  irregularity  of  Nature,  obvious 
enough  when  we  turn  our  attention  to  it,  escapes 
our  habitual  notice,  of  course,  because  we  invariably 
attribute  the  want  of  observed  uniformity  to  the 
errors  of  the  observer.  And  without  doubt  we  do 
well.  But  what  does  this  imply  ?  It  implies  that  we 
bring  to  the  interpretation  of  our  sense-perception 
the  principle  of  causation  ready  made.  It  implies 
that  we  do  not  believe  the  world  to  be  governed  by 
immutable  law  because  our  experiences  appear  to 
be  regular ;  but  that  we  believe  that  our  experi- 
ences, in  spite  of  their  apparent  irregularity,  follow 
some  (perhaps)  unknown  rule  because  we  first  be- 
lieve the  world  to  be  governed  by  immutable  law. 
But  this  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  the  principle  is 
not  proved  by  experience,  but  that  experience  is  un- 
derstood in  the  light  of  the  principle.  Here,  again, 
empiricism  fails  us.  As  in  the  case  of  our  judgments 
about  particular  matters  of  fact,  so  also  in  the  case 
of  these  other  judgments,  whose  scope  is  co-exten-^ 
sive  with  the  whole  realm  of  Nature,  we  find  that 
any  endeavour  to  formulate  a  rational  justification 
for  them  based  on  experience  alone  breaks  down, 
and,  to  all  appearance,  breaks  down  hopelessly. 

VIII 

But  even  if  this  reasoning  be  sound,  may  the 
reader  exclaim.  What  is  it  that  we  gain  by  it  ?  What 
harvest  are  we  likely  to  reap  from  such  broadcast 


THE   PIIILOSUPHIC    BASIS   OF   NATURALISM       133 

sowing  of  scepticism  as  this?  What  does  it  profit 
us  to  show  that  a  great  many  truths  which  every- 
body believes,  and  which  no  abstract  speculations 
will  induce  us  to  doubt,  are  still  waiting  for  a  philo- 
sophic proof?  Fair  questions,  it  must  be  admitted  ; 
questions,  nevertheless,  to  which  I  must  reserve  my 
full  answer  until  a  later  stage  of  our  inquiry.  Yet 
even  now  something  may  be  said,  by  way  of  conclu- 
sion to  this  chapter,  on  the  relation  which  these  crit- 
icisms bear  to  the  scheme  of  thought  whose  practi- 
cal consequences  we  traced  out  in  the  first  part  of 
these  Notes. 

I  begin  by  admitting  that  the  criticisms  them- 
selves are,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  incomplete. 
They  contain  but  the  concise  and  even  meagre  out- 
line of  an  argument  which  is  itself  but  a  portion 
only  of  the  whole  case.  For  want  of  space,  or  to 
avoid  unsuitable  technicalities,  much  has  been  omitted 
which  would  have  been  relevant  to  the  issues  raised, 
and  have  still  further  strengthened  the  position 
which  has  been  taken  up.  Yet,  though  more  might 
have  been  said,  what  has  been  said  is,  in  my  opinion, 
sufficient;  and  I  shall,  therefore,  not  scruple  hence- 
forth to  assume  that  a  purely  empirical  theory  of 
things,  a  philosophy  which  depends  for  its  premises 
in  the  last  resort  upon  the  particulars  revealed  to 
us  in  perceptive  experience  alone,  is  one  that  can- 
not rationally  be  accepted. 

Is  this  conclusion,  then,  adverse  to  Naturalism  ? 
And,  if  so,  must  it  not  tell  with  equal  force  against 


134      TIIE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

Science,  seeing  that  it  is  solely  against  that  part  of 
the  naturalistic  teaching  which  is  taken  over  bodily 
from  Science  that  it  appears  to  be  directed  ?  Of 
these  two  questions,  1  answer  the  first  in  the  afifirm- 
ative,  the  second  in  the  negative.  Doubtless,  if 
empiricism  be  shattered,  it  must  drag  down  natural- 
ism in  its  fall ;  for,  after  all,  naturalism  is  nothing 
more  than  the  assertion  that  empirical  methods  are 
valid,  and  that  no  others  are  so.  But  because  any 
effectual  criticism  of  empiricism  is  the  destruction 
of  naturalism,  is  it  therefore  the  destruction  of  sci- 
ence also  ?  Surely  not.  The  adherent  of  natural- 
ism is  an  empiricist  from  necessity ;  the  man  of 
science,  if  he  be  an  empiricist,  is  so  only  from 
choice.  The  latter  may,  if  he  please,  have  no  philos- 
ophy at  all,  or  he  may  have  a  different  one.  He  is 
not  obliged,  any  more  than  other  men,  to  justify  his 
conclusions  by  an  appeal  to  first  principles  ;  still  less 
is  he  obliged  to  take  his  first  principles  from  so  poor 
a  creed  as  the  one  we  have  been  discussing.  Science 
preceded  the  theory  of  science,  and  is  independent 
of  it.  Science  preceded  naturalism,  and  will  sur- 
vive it.  Though  the  convictions  involved  in  our 
practical  conception  of  the  universe  are  not  beyond 
the  reach  of  theoretic  doubts,  though  we  habitually 
stake  our  all  upon  assumptions  which  we  never  at- 
tempt to  justify,  and  which  we  could  not  justify  if 
we  would,  yet  is  our  scientific  certitude  unshaken ; 
and  if  we  still  strive  after  some  solution  of  our 
sceptical  difficulties,  it  is  because  this  is  necessary 


THE    PlllLUSOPIIIC    BASIS    OF   NATURALISM        1 35 

for  the  satisfaction  of  an  intellectual  ideal,  not  be- 
cause it  is  required  to  fortify  our  confidence  either 
in  the  familiar  teachings  of  experience  or  in  their 
utmost  scientific  expansion.  And  hence  arises  my 
principal  complaint  against  naturalism.  With  Em- 
pirical philosophy,  considered  as  a  tentative  con- 
tribution to  the  theory  of  science,  I  have  no  desire 
to  pick  a  quarrel.  That  it  should  fail  is  nothing-. 
Other  philosophies  have  failed.  Such  is,  after  all, 
the  common  lot.  That  it  should  have  been  con- 
trived to  justify  conclusions  already  accepted  is,  if  a 
fault  at  all — which  I  doubt — at  least  a  most  venial 
one,  and  one,  moreover,  which  it  has  committed  in 
the  best  of  philosophic  company.  That  it  should 
derive  some  moderate  degree  of  imputed  credit 
from  the  universal  acceptance  of  the  scientific  be- 
liefs which  it  countersigns,  may  be  borne  with, 
though  for  the  real  interests  of  speculative  inquiry 
this  has  been,  I  think,  a  misfortune.  But  that  it 
should  develop  into  naturalism,  and  then,  on  the 
strength  of  labours  which  it  has  not  endured,  of 
victories  which  it  has  not  won,  and  of  scientific 
triumphs  in  which  it  has  no  right  to  share,  presume, 
in  despite  of  its  speculative  insufficiency,  to  dictate 
terms  of  surrender  to  ever}^  other  system  of  belief,  is 
alt(jgether  intolerable.  Who  would  pay  the  slight- 
est attention  to  naturalism  if  it  did  not  force  itself 
into  the  retinue  of  science,  assume  her  livery,  and 
claim,  as  a  kind  of  p(jor  relation,  in  some  sort  to  rep- 
resent her  authority  and  to  speak  with  her  voice  ? 


136       THE   PHILOSOPHIC   BASIS   OF   NATURALISM 

Of  itself  it  is  nothing.  It  neither  ministers  to  the 
needs  of  mankind,  nor  does  it  satisfy  their  reason. 
And  if,  in  spite  of  this,  its  influence  has  increased,  is 
increasing,  and  as  yet  shows  no  signs  of  diminution  ; 
if  more  and  more  the  educated  and  the  half-educated 
are  acquiescing  in  its  pretensions  and,  however  re- 
luctantly, submitting  to  its  domination,  this  is,  at 
least  in  part,  because  they  have  not  learned  to  dis- 
tinguish between  the  practical  and  inevitable  claims 
which  experience  has  on  their  allegiance,  and  the 
speculative  but  quite  illusory  title  by  which  the  em- 
pirical school  have  endeavoured  to  associate  natural- 
ism and  science  in  a  kind  of  joint  supremacy  over 
the  thoughts  and  consciences  of  mankind. 


CHAPTER   II 

IDEALISM  ;  AFTER   SOME  RECENT  ENGLISH  WRITINGS  ^ 


The  difficulties  in  the  way  of  an  empirical  philos- 
ophy of    science,  with  which  we  dealt  in    the  last 

'  The  reader  who  has  no  familiarity  with  philosophic  literature  is 
advised  to  omit  this  chapter.  The  philosophic  reader  will,  I  hope, 
regard  it  as  provisional.  Transcendental  Idealism  is,  if  I  mistake 
not,  at  this  moment  in  rather  a  singular  position  in  this  country. 
In  the  land  of  its  birth  (as  I  am  informed)  it  is  but  little  considered. 
In  English-speaking  countries  it  is,  within  the  narrow  circle  of 
professed  philosophers,  perhaps  the  dominant  mood  of  thought ; 
while  without  that  circle  it  is  not  so  much  objected  to  as  totally 
ignored.  This  anomalous  state  of  things  is  no  doubt  due  in  part 
to  the  inherent  difficulty  of  the  subject ;  but  even  more,  I  think,  to 
the  fact  that  the  energy  of  English  Idealists  has  been  consumed 
rather  in  the  production  of  commentaries  on  other  people's  systems 
than  in  the  expositions  of  their  own.  The  result  of  this  is  that  we 
do  not  quite  know  where  we  are,  that  we  are  more  or  less  in  a  con- 
dition of  expectancy,  and  that  both  learners  and  critics  are  placed 
at  a  disadvantage.  Pending  the  appearance  of  some  original  work 
which  shall  represent  the  constructive  views  of  the  younger  school 
of  thinkers,  I  have  written  the  following  chapter,  with  reference 
chiefly  to  the  writings  of  the  late  Mr.  T.  H.  Green,  which  at  pres- 
ent contain  the  most  important  exposition,  so  far  as  I  know,  of  this 
phase  of  English  thought.  Mr.  Bradley's  noteworthy  work,  '  Ap- 
pearance and  Reality,'  published  some  time  after  this  chapter  was 
finished,  is  written  with  characteristic  independence  ;  but  I  know 
not  whether  it  has  yet  commanded  any  large  measure  of  assent 
from  the  few  wlio  are  competent  to  pronounee  a  venliel  upon  its 
merits. 


138  IDEALISM 

chapter,  largely  arise  from  the  conflict  which  exists 
between  two  parts  of  a  system,  the  scientific  half  of 
which  requires  us  to  regard  experience  as  an  effect 
of  an  external  and  independent  world,  while  the 
philosophic  or  epistemological  half  offers  this  same 
experience  to  us  as  the  sole  groundwork  and  logi- 
cal foundation  on  which  any  knowledge  whatever 
of  an  external  and  independent  world  may  be  ra- 
tionally based.  These  difificulties  and  the  arguments 
founded  on  them  require  to  be  urged,  in  the  first  in- 
stance, in  opposition  to  those  who  explicitly  hold 
what  I  have  called  the  '  naturalistic  '  creed ;  and 
then  to  that  general  body  of  educated  opinion 
which,  though  reluctant  to  contract  its  beliefs  with- 
in the  narrow  circuit  of  '  naturalism,'  yet  habitually 
assumes  that  there  is  presented  to  us  in  science  a 
body  of  opinion,  certified  by  reason,  solid,  certain, 
and  impregnable,  to  which  theology  adds,  as  an  edi- 
fying supplement,  a  certain  number  of  dogmas,  of 
which  the  well-disposed  assimilate  as  many,  but 
only  as  many,  as  their  superior  allegiance  to  *  posi- 
tive '  knowledge  will  permit  them  to  digest. 

These  two  classes,  however,  by  no  means  exhaust 
the  kinds  of  opinion  with  which  it  is  necessary  to 
deal.  And  in  particular  there  is  a  metaphysical 
school,  few  indeed  in  numbers,  but  none  the  less  im- 
portant in  matters  speculative,  whose  general  posi- 
tion is  wholly  distinct  and  independent;  who  would, 
indeed,  not  perhaps  very  widely,  dissent  from  the 
negative  conclusions  already  reached,  but  who  have 


IDEALISM  139 

their  own  positive  solution  of  the  problem  of  the 
universe.  In  their  opinion,  all  the  embarrassments 
which  may  be  shown  to  attend  on  the  empirical 
philosophy  are  due  to  the  fact  that  empirical  philos- 
ophers wholly  misunderstand  the  essential  nature 
of  that  experience  on  which  they  profess  to  found 
their  beliefs.  The  theory  of  perception  evolved  out 
of  Locke,  by  Berkeley  and  Hume,  which  may  be 
traced  without  radical  modification  through  their 
modern  successors,  is,  according  to  the  school  of 
which  I  speak,  at  the  root  of  all  the  mischief.  Of 
this  theory  they  make  short  work.  They  press  to 
the  utmost  the  sceptical  consequences  to  which  it 
inevitably  leads.  They  show,  or  profess  to  show, 
that  it  renders  not  only  scientific  knowledge,  but 
any  knowledge  whatever,  impossible ;  and  they  of- 
fer as  a  substitute  a  theory  of  experience,  very  re- 
mote indeed  from  ordinary  modes  of  expression,  by 
which  these  consequences  may,  in  their  judgment, 
be  entirely  avoided. 

The  dimensions  and  character  of  these  Notes  ren- 
der it  impossible,  even  were  I  adequately  equipped 
for  the  task,  to  deal  fully  with  so  formidable  a  sub- 
ject as  Transcendental  Idealism,  either  in  its 
historical  or  its  metaphysical  aspect.  Remote 
though  it  be  from  ordinary  modes  of  thought,  some 
brief  discussion  of  the  theory  with  which,  in  some 
recent  English  works,  it  supplies  us  concerning  Nat- 
ure and  God  is,  however,  absolutely  necessary  ; 
and  I  therefore  here  present  the  following  observa- 


I40  IDEALISM 

tions  to  the  philosophic  reader  with  apologies  for 
their  brevity,  and  to  the  unphilosophic  reader  with 
apologies  for  their  length. 

From  what  I  have  already  said  it  is  clear  that 
the  theory  to  which  Transcendental  Idealism  may 
be,  from  our  point  of  view,  considered  as  a  reply,  is 
not  the  theory  of  experience  which  is  taken  for 
granted  in  ordinary  scientific  statement,  but  the 
closely  allied  'psychological  theory  of  perception' 
evolved  by  thinkers  usually  classed  rather  as  philos- 
ophers than  as  men  of  science.  The  difference  is 
not  wholly  immaterial,  as  will  appear  in  the  sequel. 

What,  then,  is  this  *  psychological  theory  of  per- 
ception '  ?  Or,  rather,  where  is  the  weak  point  in  it 
at  which  it  is  open  to  attack  by  the  transcendental 
idealists?  It  lies  in  the  account  given  by  that  the- 
ory of  the  real.  According  to  this  account  the 
*  real '  in  external  experience,  that  which,  because  it 
is  not  due  to  any  mental  manipulation  by  the  per- 
cipient, such  as  abstraction  or  comparison,  may  be 
considered  as  the  experienced  fact,  is,  in  ultimate 
analysis,  either  a  sensation  or  a  group  of  sensations. 
These  sensations  and  groups  of  sensations  are  sub- 
jected in  the  mind  to  a  process  of  analysis  and  com- 
parison. Discrimination  is  made  between  those 
which  are  unlike.  Those  which  have  points  of  re- 
semblance are  called  by  a  common  name.  The  se- 
quences and  CO -existences  which  obtain  among 
them  are  noted  ;  the  laws  by  which  they  are  bound 
together  are  discovered  ;  and  the  order  in  which 


IDEALISM  141 

they  may  be  expected  to  recur  is  foreseen  and  un- 
derstood. 

Now,  say  the  idealists,  if  everything  of  which  ex- 
ternal reality  can  be  predicated  is  thus  either  a  sen- 
sation or  the  idea  of  a  sensation,  if  these  and  these 
only  are  '  given '  in  experience,  everything  else,  in- 
cluding relations,  being  mere  fictions  of  the  mind, 
we  are  reduced  to  the  absurd  position  of  holding 
that  the  real  is  not  only  unknown,  but  is  also  un- 
knowable. For  a  brief  examination  of  the  nature  of 
experience  is  sufficient  to  prove  that  an  unrelated 
*  thing  '  (be  that  '  thing  '  a  sensation  or  a  group  of 
sensations),  which  is  not  qualified  by  its  resemblance 
to  other  things,  its  difference  from  other  things,  and 
its  connection  with  other  things,  is  really,  so  far  as 
we  are  concerned,  no  '  thing  '  at  all.  It  is  not  an 
object  of  possible  experience ;  its  true  character 
must  be  for  ever  hid  from  us  ;  or,  rather,  as  char- 
acter consists  simply  in  relations,  it  Jias  no  char- 
acter, nor  can  it  form  part  of  that  intelligible 
world  with  which  alone  we  have  to  deal. 

Ideas  of  relation  are,  therefore,  required  to  con- 
vert the  supposed  *  real '  of  external  experience  into 
something  of  which  experience  can  take  note.  But 
such  ideas  themselves  are  unintelligible,  except  as  the 
results  of  the  intellectual  activity  of  some  '  Self '  or 
'  I  '.  They  must  be  somebody's  thought,  somebody's 
ideas  ;  if  only  for  the  purpose  of  mutual  compari- 
son, there  must  be  some  bond  of  union  between 
them  other  than  themselves.     Here  again,  therefore, 


142  IDEALISM 

the  psychological  analysis  of  experience  breaks 
down,  and  it  becomes  plain  that  just  as  the  real  in 
external  experience  is  real  only  in  virtue  of  an  in- 
tellectual element,  namely,  ideas  of  relation  (cate- 
gories), through  which  it  was  apprehended,  so  in 
internal  experience  ideas  and  sensations  presuppose 
the  existence  of  an  '  I,'  or  self-conscious  unity,  which 
is  neither  sensation  nor  idea,  which  ought  not, 
therefore,  on  the  psychological  theory  to  be  con- 
sidered as  having  any  claim  to  reality  at  all,  but 
which,  nevertheless,  is  presupposed  in  the  very  pos- 
sibility of  phenomena  appearing  as  elements  in  a 
single  experience. 

We  are  thus  apparently  left  by  the  idealist  theory 
face  to  face  with  a  mind  (thinking  subject)  which  is 
the  source  of  relations  (categories),  and  a  world  which 
is  constituted  by  relations  :  with  a  mind  which  is 
conscious  of  itself,  and  a  world  of  which  that  mind 
may  without  metaphor  be  described  as  the  creator. 
We  have,  in  short,  reached  the  central  position  of 
transcendental  idealism.  But  before  we  proceed  to 
subject  the  system  to  any  critical  observations,  let 
us  ask  what  it  is  we  are  supposed  to  gain  by  endeav- 
ouring thus  to  rctJiink  the  universe  from  so  unaccus- 
tomed a  point  of  view. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  it  is  claimed  for  this  theory 
that  it  frees  us  from  the  scepticism  which,  in  matters 
scientific  as  well  as  in  matters  theological,  follows 
inevitably  upon  the  psychological  doctrine  of  percep- 
tion as  just  explained  :  a  scepticism  which  not  only 


IDEALISM  143 

leaves  no  room  for  God  and  the  soul,  but  destroys 
the  very  possibility  of  framing  any  general  proposi- 
tion about  the  '  external '  world,  by  destroying  the 
possibility  of  there  being  any  world,  '  external '  or 
otherwise,  in  which  permanent  relation  shall  exist. 

In  the  second  place,  it  makes  Reason  no  mere 
accidental  excrescence  on  a  universe  of  material 
objects ;  an  element  to  be  added  to,  or  subtracted 
from,  the  sum  of  '  things '  as  the  blind  shock  of  un- 
thinking causes  may  decide.  Rather  does  it  make 
Reason  the  very  essence  of  all  that  is  or  can  be :  the 
(immanent)  cause  of  the  world  -  process  ;  its  origin 
and  its  goal. 

In  the  third  place,  it  professes  to  establish  on  a 
firm  foundation  the  moral  freedom  of  self-conscious 
agents.  That  '  Self '  which  is  the  prior  condition  of 
there  being  a  natural  world  cannot  be  the  creature 
of  that  world.  It  stands  above  and  beyond  the  sphere 
of  causes  and  effects ;  it  is  no  mere  object  among 
other  objects,  driven  along  its  predestined  course  by 
external  forces  in  obedience  to  alien  laws.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  a  free,  autonomous  Spirit,  not  only 
bound,  but  able,  to  fulfil  the  moral  commands  which 
are  but  the  expression  of  its  own  most  essential  being. 

II 

I  am  reluctant  to  suggest  objections  to  any  theory 
which  promises  results  so  admirable.  Yet  I  cannot 
tiiink  tiiat  all  the   difficulties  with   which  it  is  sur- 


144  IDEALISM 

rounded  have  been  fairly  faced,  or,  at  any  rate,  fully 
explained,  by  those  who  accept  its  main  principles. 
Consider,  for  example,  the  crucial  question  of  the 
analysis  which  reduces  all  experience  to  an  experience 
of  relations,  or,  in  more  technical  language,  which 
constitutes  the  universe  out  of  categories.  We  may 
grant  without  difficulty  that  the  contrasted  theory, 
which  proposes  to  reduce  the  universe  to  an  unrelated 
chaos  of  impressions  or  sensations,  is  quite  untenable. 
But  must  we  not  also  grant  that  in  all  experience 
there  is  a  refractory  element  which,  though  it  cannot 
be  presented  in  isolation,  nevertheless  refuses  wholly 
to  merge  its  being  in  a  network  of  relations,  necessary 
as  these  may  be  to  give  it  '  significance  for  us  as 
thinking  beings  '  ?  If  so,  whence  does  this  irreduc- 
ible element  arise  ?  The  mind,  we  are  told,  is  the 
source  of  relation.  What  is  the  source  of  that  which 
is  related  ?  A  '  thing-in-itself '  which,  by  impressing 
the  percipient  mind,  shall  furnish  the  '  matter '  for 
which  categories  provide  the  '  form,'  is  a  way  out  of 
the  difficulty  (if  difficulty  there  be)  which  raises  more 
doubts  than  it  solves.  The  followers  of  Kant  them- 
selves make  haste  to  point  out  that  this  hypothetical 
cause  of  that  which  is  '  given '  in  experience  cannot, 
since  ex  hypotJicsi  it  lies  beyond  experience,  be  known 
as  a  cause,  or  even  as  existing.  Nay,  it  is  not  so  much 
unknown  and  unknowable  as  indescribable  and  unin- 
telligible ;  not  so  much  a  riddle  whose  meaning  is 
obscure  as  mere  absence  and  vacuity  of  any  meaning 
whatever.     Accordingl}^  from  the  speculations  with 


IDEALISM  145 

which  we  are  here  concerned  it  has  been  dismissed 
with  ignominy,  and  it  need  not,  therefore,  detain  us 
further. 

But  we  do  not  get  rid  of  the  difficulty  by  getting 
rid  of  Kant's  solution  of  it.  His  dictum  still  seems 
to  me  to  remain  true,  that '  without  matter  categories 
are  empty.'  And,  indeed,  it  is  hard  to  see  how  it  is 
possible  to  conceive  a  universe  in  which  relations 
shall  be  all  in  all,  but  in  which  nothing  is  to  be  per- 
mitted for  the  relations  to  subsist  between.  Rela- 
tions surely  imply  a  something  which  is  related, 
and  if  that  something  is,  in  the  absence  of  relations, 
'  nothing  for  us  as  thinking  beings,'  so  relations  in 
the  absence  of  that  something  arc  mere  symbols 
emptied  of  their  signification  ;  they  are,  in  short,  an 
*  illegitimate  abstraction.' 

Those,  moreover,  who  hold  that  these  all-consti- 
tuting relations  are  the  '  work  of  the  mind  '  would 
seem  bound  also  to  hold  that  this  concrete  world  of 
ours,  down  to  its  minutest  detail,  must  evolve  itself 
a  priori  out  of  the  movement  of  '  pure  thought.' 
There  is  no  room  in  it  for  the  '  contingent'  ;  there  is 
no  room  in  it  for  the '  given  '  ;  experience  itself  would 
seem  to  be  a  superfluity.  And  we  are  at  a  loss,  there- 
fore, to  understand  why  that  dialectical  ])r()cess  which 
moves,  I  will  not  say  so  convincingly,  but  at  least  so 
smoothly,  through  the  abstract  categories  of  '  being,' 
'  not-being,' '  becoming,'  and  so  forth,  should  stiunble 
and  hesitate  when  it  comes  to  deal  with  that  world 
of  Nature  which  is,  after  all,  one  of  the  principal 
10 


146  IDEALISM 

subjects  about  which  we  desire  information.  No 
explanation  which  I  remember  to  have  seen  makes 
it  otherwise  than  strange  that  we  should,  as  the  ideal- 
ists claim,  be  able  so  thoroughly  to  identify  ourselves 
with  those  thoughts  of  God  which  are  the  necessary 
preliminary  to  creation,  but  should  so  little  under- 
stand creation  itself ;  that  we  should  out  of  our 
unaided  mental  resources  be  competent  to  reproduce 
the  whole  ground-plan  of  the  universe,  and  should 
yet  lose  ourselves  so  hopelessly  in  the  humblest  of 
its  ante-rooms. 

This  difficulty  at  once  requires  us  to  ask  on  what 
ground  it  is  alleged  that  these  constitutive  relations 
are  the  '  work  of  the  mind.'  It  is  true,  no  doubt,  that 
ordinary  usage  would  describe  as  mental  products 
the  more  abstract  thoughts  (categories),  such,  for 
example,  as  '  being,'  '  not-being,'  '  causation,'  '  reci- 
procity,' &c.  But  it  must  be  recollected,  in  the  first 
place,  that  transcendental  idealism  does  not,  as  a 
rule,  derive  its  inspiration  from  ordinary  usage  ;  and 
in  the  second  place,  that  even  ordinary  usage  alters 
its  procedure  when  it  comes  to  such  more  concrete 
cases  of  relation  as,  for  instance,  *  shape  '  and  '  posi- 
tion,' which,  rightly  or  wrongly,  are  always  con- 
sidered as  belonging  to  the  'external'  world,  and 
presented  by  the  external  world  to  thought,  not  cre- 
ated by  thought  for  itself. 

Are  the  transcendental  idealists,  then,  bound  by 
their  own  most  essential  principles,  in  opposition  both 
to  their  arguments  against  Kant's    '  thing-in-itself ' 


IDEALISM  147 

and  to  the  ordinary  beliefs  of  mankind,  to  invest  the 
thinking  '  self '  with  this  attribute  of  causal  or  qjtasi- 
causal  activity  ?  It  certainly  appears  to  me  that  they 
are  not.  Starting,  it  will  be  recollected,  from  the 
analysis  (criticism)  of  experience,  they  arrived  at  the 
conclusion  that  the  world  of  objects  exists  and  has 
a  meaning  only  for  the  self-conscious  '  I '  (subject), 
and  that  the  self-conscious  '  I '  only  knows  itself  in 
contrast  and  in  opposition  to  the  world  of  objects. 
Each  is  necessar}^  to  the  other  ;  in  the  absence  of  the 
other  neither  has  any  significance.  How,  then,  can 
we  venture  to  say  of  one  that  the  other  is  its  product  ? 
and  if  we  say  it  of  either,  must  we  not  in  consistency 
insist  on  sa3^ing  it  of  both  ?  Thus,  though  the  pres- 
ence of  a  self-conscious  principle  may  be  necessary 
to  constitute  the  universe,  it  cannot  be  considered 
as  the  creator  of  that  universe  ;  or  if  it  be,  then  must 
we  acknowledge  that  precisely  in  the  same  way  and 
precisely  to  the  same  extent  is  the  universe  the  cre- 
ator of  the  self-conscious  principle. 

All,  therefore,  that  the  transcendental  argument 
requires  or  even  allows  us  to  accept,  is  a  '  manifold  ' 
of  relations  on  the  one  side,  and  a  bare  self-conscious 
principle  of  luiity  on  the  other,  by  which  that  mani- 
fold becomes  inter-connected  in  the  '  field  of  a  single 
experience.'  We  are  not  permitted,  except  by  a 
process  of  abstraction  which  is  purely  temporary  and 
provisional,  to  consider  the  '  manifold  '  apart  from 
the  '  unity,'  nor  the  '  unity  '  apart  from  the  '  manifold.' 
The  thoughts  do    not  make    the    thinker,    nor    the 


148  IDEALISM 

thinker  the  thoughts  ;  but  together  they  constitute 
that  Whole  or  Absolute  whose  elements,  as  they  are 
mere  no -sense  apart  from  one  another,  cannot  in 
strictness  be  even  said  to  contribute  separately  to- 
wards the  total  result. 


Ill 

Now  let  us  consider  what  bearing  this  conclusion 
has  upon  (i)  Theology,  (2)  Ethics,  and  (3)  Science. 

I.  As  regards  Theology,  it  might  be  supposed 
that  at  least  idealism  provided  us  with  a  universe 
which,  if  not  created  or  controlled  by  Reason  (crea- 
tion and  control  implying  causal  action),  may  yet 
properly  be  said  to  be  throughout  infused  by  Rea- 
son and  to  be  in  necessary  harmony  with  it.  But 
on  a  closer  examination  difficulties  arise  which  some- 
what mar  this  satisfactory  conclusion.  In  the  first 
place,  if  theology  is  to  provide  us  with  a  ground- 
work for  religion,  the  God  of  whom  it  speaks  must 
be  something  more  than  the  bare  '  pi-inciple  of  unitv ' 
required  to  give  coherence  to  the  multiplicity  of 
Nature.  Apart  from  Nature  He  is,  on  the  theory 
we  are  considering,  a  mere  metaphysical  abstraction, 
the  geometrical  point  through  which  pass  all  the 
threads  which  make  up  the  web  of  possible  experi- 
ence :  no  fitting  object,  surely,  of  either  love,  rever- 
ence, or  devotion.  In  combination  with  Nature  He 
is  no  doubt  '  the  principle  of  unity,'  and  all  the  ful- 
ness of  concrete  reality  besides ;  but  ever}-  quality 


IDEALISM  149 

with  which  He  is  thus  associated  bclonf^s  to  that  por- 
tion of  the  Absolute  Whole  from  which,  by  hypoth- 
esis, He  distinguishes  Himself ;  and,  were  it  other- 
wise, we  cannot  find  in  these  qualities,  compacted, 
as  they  are,  of  good  and  bad,  of  noble  and  base,  the 
Perfect  Goodness  without  which  relisjious  feclinirs 
can  never  find  an  adequate  object.  Thus,  neither 
the  combining  principle  alone,  nor  the  combining 
principle  considered  in  its  union  with  the  multipli- 
city which  it  combines,  can  satisfy  the  requirements 
of  an  effectual  theology.  Not  the  first,  because  it  is 
a  barren  abstraction ;  not  the  second,  because  in  its 
all-inclusive  universality  it  holds  in  suspension,  with- 
out preference  and  without  repulsion,  every  element 
alike  of  the  knowable  world.  Of  these  none,  what- 
ever be  its  nature,  be  it  good  or  bad,  base  or  noble, 
can  be  considered  as  alien  to  the  Absolute :  all  are 
necessary,  and  all  are  characteristic. 

Of  these  two  alternatives,  I  understand  that  it 
is  the  first  which  is  usually  adopted  by  the  school 
of  thought  with  which  we  are  at  present  concerned. 
It  may  therefore  be  desirable  to  reiterate  that  a 
'unifying  principle'  can,  as  such,  have  no  qualities, 
moral  or  otherwise.  Lovingkindness,  for  example, 
and  Equity  are  attributes  which,  like  all  attributes, 
belong  not  to  the  unif3^ing  principle,  but  to  the 
world  of  objects  wliicli  it  constitutes.  They  are 
conceptions  which  belong  to  the  realm  of  emi)ir- 
ical  psychology.  Nor  can  1  see  aiiv  method  by 
which  they  are  to  he  hitclied  on  to  the  'pure  s[)irit- 


1 50  IDEALISM 

ual    subject,'  as   elements   making  up   its   essential 
character, 

2.  But  if  this  be  so,  what  is  the  ethical  value  of 
that  freedom  which  is  attributed  by  the  idealistic 
theory  to  the  self-conscious  '  I '  ?  It  is  true  that  this 
'  I '  as  conceived  by  idealism  is  above  all  the  '  cate- 
gories,' including,  of  course,  the  category  of  causa- 
tion. It  is  not  in  space  nor  in  time.  It  is  subject 
neither  to  mutation  nor  decay.  The  stress  of  ma- 
terial forces  touches  it  not,  nor  is  it  in  any  servitude 
to  chance  or  circumstance,  to  inherited  tendencies 
or  acquired  habits.  But  all  these  immunities  and 
privileges  it  possesses  in  virtue  of  its  being,  not  an 
agent  in  a  world  of  concrete  fact,  but  a  thinking 
'subject,'  for  whom  alone,  as  it  is  alleged,  such  a 
world  exists.  Its  freedom  is  metaphysical,  not  moral ; 
for  moral  freedom  can  only  have  a  meaning  at  all 
in  reference  to  a  being  who  acts  and  who  wills, 
and  is  only  of  real  importance  for  us  in  relation  to 
a  being  who  not  only  acts,  but  is  acted  on,  who  not 
only  wills,  but  who  wills  against  the  opposing  influ- 
ences of  temptation.  Such  freedom  cannot,  it  is 
plain,  be  predicated  of  a  mere  '  subject,'  nor  is  the 
freedom  proper  to  a  '  subject '  of  any  worth  to  man 
as  '  object,'  to  man  as  known  in  experience,  to  man 
fighting  his  way  with  varying  fortunes  against  the 
stream  of  adverse  circumstances,  in  a  world  made 
up  of  causes  and  effects.^ 

'  This  proposition  would,  probably,  not  be  widely  dissented  from 
by  some  of  the  ethical  writers  of  the  idealist  school.     The  freedom 


IDEALISM  I  5  I 

These  observations  bring  into  sufficiently  clear 
relief  the  difficulty  which  exists,  on  the  idealistic 
theory,  in  bringing  together  into  any  sort  of  intelli- 
gible association  the  '  I '  as  supreme  principle  of 
unity,  and  the  *  I '  of  empirical  psychology,  which 

which  they  postulate  is  not  the  freedom  merely  of  the  pure  self-con- 
scious subject.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  the  individual,  with  all  his 
qualities,  passions,  and  emotions,  who  in  their  view  possesses  free 
will.  But  the  ethical  value  of  the  freedom  thus  attributed  to  self- 
conscious  agents  seems  on  further  examination  to  disappear.  Man- 
kind, it  seems,  are  on  this  theory  free,  but  their  freedom  does  not 
exclude  determinism,  but  only  that  form  of  determinism  which 
consists  in  external  constraint.  Their  actions  are  upon  this  view 
strictly  prescribed  by  their  antecedents,  but  these  antecedents  are 
nothing  other  than  the  characters  of  the  agents  themselves. 

Now  it  may  seem  at  first  sight  plausible  to  describe  that  man  as 
free  whose  behaviour  is  due  to  '  himself '  alone.  But  without  quar- 
relling over  words,  it  is,  I  think,  plain  that,  whether  it  be  proper  to 
call  him  free  or  not,  he  at  least  lacks  freedom  in  the  sense  in  which 
freedom  is  necessary  in  order  to  constitute  responsibility.  It  is  im- 
possible to  say  of  him  that  he  '  ought,'  and  therefore  he  '  can'.  For 
at  any  given  moment  of  his  life  his  next  action  is  by  hypothesis 
strictly  determined.  This  is  also  true  of  every  previous  moment, 
until  we  get  back  to  that  point  in  his  life's  history  at  which  he  can- 
not, in  any  intelligible  sense  of  the  term,  be  said  to  '  have  a  char- 
acter at  all.  Antecedently  to  this,  the  causes  which  have  produced 
him  are  in  no  special  sense  connected  with  his  individuality,  but  form 
part  of  the  general  complex  of  phenomena  which  make  up  the 
world.  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  every  act  which  he  performs 
may  be  traced  to  pre-natal,  and  possibly  to  purely  material,  antece- 
dents, and  that,  even  if  it  be  true  that  what  he  does  is  the  outcome 
of  his  character,  his  character  itself  is  the  outcome  of  causes  over 
which  he  has  not,  and  cannot  by  any  possibility  have,  the  smallest 
control.  Such  a  theory  destroys  responsibility,  and  leaves  our  ac- 
tions the  inevitable  outcome  of  external  conditions  not  less  com- 
pletely than  any  doctrine  of  controlling  fate,  whether  materialistic 
or  theological. 


152  IDEALISM 

has  desires  and  fears,  pleasures  and  pains,  faculties 
and  sensibilities ;  which  was  not  a  little  time  since, 
and  which  a  little  time  hence  will  be  no  more.  The 
'  I '  as  principle  of  unity  is  outside  time  ;  it  can  have, 
therefore,  no  history.  The  '  I '  of  experience,  which 
learns  and  forgets,  which  suffers  and  which  enjoys, 
unquestionably  has  a  history.  What  is  the  relation 
between  the  two  ?  We  seem  equally  precluded  from 
saying  that  they  are  the  same,  and  from  saying  that 
they  are  different.  We  cannot  say  that  they  are  the 
same,  because  they  are,  after  all,  divided  by  the  whole 
chasm  which  distinguishes  'subject'  from  '  object.' 
We  cannot  say  they  are  different,  because  our  feel- 
ings and  our  desires  seem  a  not  less  interesting  and 
important  part  of  ourselves  than  a  mere  unifying 
principle  whose  functions,  after  all,  are  of  a  purely 
metaphysical  character.  We  cannot  say  they  are 
'  two  aspects  of  the  same  thing,'  because  there  is  no 
virtue  in  this  useful  phrase  which  shall  empower  it 
on  the  one  hand  to  ear-mark  a  fragment  of  the  world 
of  objects,  and  say  of  it,  '  this  is  I,'  or,  on  the  other, 
to  take  the  '  pure  subject '  by  which  the  world  of 
objects  is  constituted,  and  say  of  it  that  it  shall  be 
itself  an  object  in  that  world  from  which  its  essential 
nature  requires  it  to  be  self-distinguished. 

But  as  it  thus  seems  difficult  or  impossible  in- 
telligibly to  unite  into  a  personal  whole  the  'pure' 
and  the  'empirical'  Self,  so  it  is  difficult  or  impossible 
to  conceive  the  relations  between  the  pure,  though 
limited,  self-consciousness  which  is  '  I '  and  the  uni- 


IDEALISM  153 

versa!  and  eternal  Self-consciousness  which  is  God. 
The  tirst  has  been  described  as  a  '  mode  '  or  '  mani- 
festation '  of  the  second.  But  are  we  not,  in  using 
such  language,  falling  into  the  kind  of  error  against 
which,  in  other  connections,  the  idealists  are  most 
careful  to  warn  us?  Are  we  not  importing  a  cate- 
gory which  has  its  meaning  and  its  use  in  the  world 
of  objects  into  a  transcendental  region  where  it 
really  has  neither  meaning  nor  use  at  all  ?  Grant,  how- 
ever, for  the  sake  of  argument,  that  it  has  a  meaning ; 
grant  that  we  may  legitimately  describe  one  '  pure 
subject '  as  a  '  mode  '  or  '  manifestation  '  of  another — 
how  is  this  partial  identity  to  be  established  ?  How 
can  we,  who  start  from  the  basis  of  our  own  limited 
self-consciousness,  rise  to  the  knowledge  of  that 
completed  and  divine  self-consciousness  of  which, 
according  to  the  theory,  we  share  the  essential  nat- 
ure ? 

The  difficulty  is  evaded  but  not  solved  in  those 
statements  of  the  idealist  theory  which  always  speak 
of  Thought  without  specifying  ivhose  Thought.  It 
seems  to  be  thus  assumed  that  the  thought  is  God's, 
and  that  in  rethinking  it  we  share  His  being.  But 
no  such  assumption  would  seem  to  be  justifiable. 
For  the  basis,  we  know,  of  the  whole  theory  is  a 
'criticism'  or  analysis  of  the  essential  elements  of 
experience.  But  the  criticism  must,  for  each  of  us, 
be  necessarily  of  Jiis  ozvn  experience,  for  of  no  other 
experience  can  he  know  anything,  except  indirectly 
and  by  way  of  inference  from  his  own.    What,  then, 


154  IDEALISM 

is  this  criticism  supposed  to  establish  (say)  for  me  ? 
Is  it  that  experience  depends  upon  the  unification 
by  a  self-conscious  '  I '  of  a  world  constituted  by  re- 
lations? In  strictness,  No.  It  can  only  establish 
that  my  experience  depends  upon  a  unification  by 
my  self-conscious  '  I '  of  a  world  of  relations  present 
to  VIC,  and  to  me  alone.  To  this  '  I,'  to  this  particu- 
lar '  self-conscious  subject,'  all  other  '  I's,'  including 
God,  must  be  objects,  constituted  like  all  objects  by 
relations,  rendered  possible  or  significant  only  by 
their  unification  in  the  '  content  of  a  single  experi- 
ence ' — namely,  my  own.  In  other  words,  that  which 
(if  it  exists  at  all)  is  essentially  '  subject '  can  only  be 
known,  or  thought  of,  or  spoken  about,  as  '  object.' 
Surely  a  very  paradoxical  conclusion. 

It  may  perhaps  be  said  by  way  of  reply,  that  in 
talking  of  particular  '  I's  '  and  particular  experiences 
we  are  using  language  properly  applicable  only  to 
the  '  self '  dealt  with  by  the  empirical  psychologist, 
the  '  self '  which  is  not  the<  subject,'  but  the  '  object,' 
of  experience.  I  will  not  dispute  about  terms;  and 
the  relations  which  exist  between  the  '  pure  ego ' 
and  the  '  empirical  ego '  are,  as  I  have  already  said, 
so  obscure  that  it  is  not  always  easy  to  employ  a 
perfectly  accurate  terminology  in  endeavouring  to 
deal  with  them.  Yet  this  much  would  seem  to  be 
certain.  If  the  words  '  self,'  '  ego,'  '  I,'  are  to  be  used 
intelligibly  at  all,  they  must  mean,  whatever  else 
they  do  or  do  not  mean,  a  '  somewhat '  which  is  self- 
distinguished,  not  only  from  every  other  knowable 


IDEALISM  155 

object,  but  also  from  every  other  possible  '  self,' 
What  we  are  '  in  ourselves,'  apart  from  the  flux  of 
thoughts  and  feelings  which  move  in  never-ending 
pageant  through  the  chambers  of  consciousness, 
metaphysicians  have,  indeed,  found  it  hard  to  say. 
Some  of  them  have  said  we  are  nothing.  But  if  this 
conclusion  be,  as  I  think  it  is,  conformable  neither 
to  our  instinctive  beliefs  nor  to  a  sound  psychology  ; 
if  we  are,  as  I  believe,  more  than  a  mere  series  of 
occurrences,  yet  it  seems  equally  certain  that  the 
very  notion  of  Personalit}^  excludes  the  idea  of  any 
one  person  being  a  '  mode '  of  any  other,  and  forces 
us  to  reject  from  philosophy  a  supposition  which,  if 
it  be  tolerable  at  all,  can  find  a  place  only  in  mys- 
ticism. 

But  the  idealistic  theory  pressed  to  its  furthest 
conclusions  requires  of  us  to  reject,  as  it  appears  to 
me,  even  more  than  this.  We  are  not  only  precluded 
by  it  from  identifying  ourselves,  even  partially,  with 
the  Eternal  Consciousness :  we  are  also  precluded 
from  supposing  that  either  the  Eternal  Conscious- 
ness or  any  other  consciousness  exists,  save  only  our 
own.  For,  as  I  have  already  said,  the  Eternal  Con- 
sciousness, if  it  is  to  be  known,  can  only  be  known 
on  the  same  conditions  as  any  other  object  of  knowl- 
edge. It  must  be  constituted  by  relations ;  it  must 
form  part  of  the  '  content  of  experience '  of  the 
knower;  it  must  exist  as  part  of  the  '  multiplicity  ' 
reduced  to  '  unity  '  by  his  self-consciousness.  But  to 
say  that  it  can  only  be  known  on  these  terms,  is  to 


156  IDEALISM 

say  that  it  cannot  be  known  as  it  exists  ;  lor  if  it 
exists  at  all,  it  exists  by  hypothesis  as  Eternal  Sub- 
ject, and  as  such  it  clearly  is  not  constituted  by  rela- 
tions, nor  is  it  either  a  '  possible  object  of  experi- 
ence,' or  '  anything  for  us  as  thinking  beings.' 

No  consciousness,  then,  is  a  possible  object  of 
knowledge  for  any  other  consciousness:  a  statement 
which,  on  the  idealistic  theory  of  knowledge,  is 
equivalent  to  saying  that  for  any  one  consciousness 
all  other  consciousnesses  are  less  than  non-existent. 
For  as  that  which  is  '  critically  '  shown  to  be  an  in- 
evitable element  in  experience  has  thereby  conferred 
on  it  the  highest  possible  degree  of  reality,  so  that 
which  cannot  on  any  terms  become  an  element  in 
experience  falls  in  the  scale  of  reality  far  below  mere 
not-being,  and  is  reduced,  as  we  have  seen,  to  mere 
meaningless  no-sense.  By  this  kind  of  reasoning 
the  idealists  themselves  demonstrate  the  '  I '  to  be 
necessary;  the  unrelated  object  and  the  thing-in-itself 
to  be  impossible.  Not  less,  by  this  kind  of  reason- 
ing, must  each  one  of  us  severally  be  driven  to  the 
conclusion  that  in  the  infinite  variety  of  the  universe 
there  is  room  for  but  one  knowing  subject,  and  that 
this  subject  is  '  himself.'^ 

'  Prof.  Caird,  in  his  most  interesting  and  suggestive  lecture  on 
the  Evolution  of  Religion,  puts  forward  a  theory  essentially  dif- 
ferent from  the  one  I  have  just  been  dealing  with.  In  his  view,  a 
multiplicity  of  objects  apprehended  by  a  single  self-conscious  subject 
does  not  suffice  to  constitute  an  intelligible  universe.  The  world  of 
objects  and  the  perceiving  mind  are  themselves  opposites  which  re- 
quire a  higher  unity  to  hold  them  together.     This  higher  unity  is 


IDEALISM  157 


IV 


3.  That  the  transcendental  '  solipsism '  which  is 
the  natural  outcome  of  such  speculations  is  not  less 
inconsistent  with  science,  morality,  and  common- 
sense  than  the  psychological,  or  Berkeleian  ^  form 
of  the  same  creed,  is  obvious.  But  without  attempt- 
ing further  to  press  idealism  to  results  which,  wheth- 
er  legitimate   or  not,  all   idealists   would   agree  in 

God  ;  so  that  by  the  simplest  of  metaphysical  demonstrations  Prof. 
Caird  lays  deep  the  foundations  of  his  theology,  and  proves  not 
only  that  God  exists,  but  that  His  Being  is  philosophically  involved 
in  the  very  simplest  of  our  experiences. 

I  confess,  with  regret,  that  this  reasoning  appears  to  me  incon- 
clusive. Surely  we  must  think  of  God  as,  on  the  transcendental 
theory,  we  think  of  ourselves ;  that  is,  as  a  Subject  distinguishing 
itself  from,  but  giving  unity  to,  a  world  of  phenomena.  But  if 
such  a  Subject  and  such  a  world  cannot  be  conceived  without  also 
postulating  some  higher  unity  in  which  their  differences  shall  vanish 
and  be  dissolved,  then  God  Himself  would  require  some  yet  higher 
deity  to  explain  His  existence.  If,  in  short,  a  multiplicity  of  phe- 
nomena presented  to  and  apprehended  by  a  conscious  '  I '  form  to- 
gether an  intelligible  and  self-sufficient  whole,  then  it  is  hard  to  see 
by  what  logic  we  are  to  get  beyond  the  solipsism  which,  as  I  have 
urged  in  the  text,  seems  to  be  the  necessary  outcome  of  one  form, 
at  least,  of  the  transcendental  argument.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
subject  and  object  cannot  form  such  an  intelligible  and  self-suffi- 
cient whole,  then  it  seems  impossible  to  imagine  what  is  the  nature 
of  that  Infinite  One  in  which  the  multiplicity  of  things  and  persons 
find  their  ultimate  unity.  Of  such  a  God  we  can  have  no  knowl- 
edge, nor  can  we  say  that  we  are  formed  in  His  image,  or  share 
His  essence. 

'  Of  course  I  do  not  mean  to  suggest  that  Berkeley  was  a  '  so- 
lipsist.'  On  the  scientific  bearing  of  psychological  idealism,  see 
Philosophic  Doubt,  chap.  ix. 


158  IDEALISM 

repudiating,  let  me,  in  conclusion,  point  out  how 
little  assistance  this  theory  is  able  under  any  circum- 
stances to  afford  us  in  solving  important  problems 
connected  with  the  Philosophy  of  Science. 

The  psychology  of  Hume,  as  we  have  seen,  threw 
doubt  upon  the  very  possibility  of  legitimately  fram- 
ing general  propositions  about  the  world  of  objects. 
The  observation  of  isolated  and  unrelated  impres- 
sions of  sense,  which  is  in  effect  what  experience 
became  reduced  to  under  his  process  of  analysis, 
may  generate  habits  of  expectation,  but  never  can 
justify  rational  beliefs.  The  law  of  universal  causa- 
tion, for  example,  can  never  be  proved  by  a  mere 
repetition,  however  prolonged,  of  similar  sequences, 
though  the  repetition  may,  through  the  association 
of  ideas,  gradually  compel  us  to  expect  the  second 
term  of  the  sequence  whenever  the  first  term  comes 
within  the  field  of  our  observation.  So  far  Hume 
as  interpreted  by  the  transcendental  idealists. 

Now,  how  is  this  difficulty  met  on  the  idealistic 
theory  ?  Somewhat  in  this  way.  These  categories 
or  general  principles  of  relation  have  not,  say  the 
idealists,  to  be  collected  (so  to  speak)  from  individual 
and  separate  experiences  (as  the  empirical  philoso- 
phers believe,  but  as  Hume,  the  chief  among  empiri- 
cists, showed  to  be  impossible) ;  neither  are  they, 
as  the  a  priori  philosophers  supposed,  part  of  the 
original  furniture  of  the  observing  mind,  intended 
by  Providence  to  be  applied  as  occasion  arises  to 
the  world  of  experience  with  which  by  a  beneficent. 


IDEALISM  159 

if  unexplained,  adaptation  they  find  themselves  in  a 
pre-established  harmony.  On  the  contrary,  they  are 
the  '  necessary  prius,'  the  antecedent  condition,  of 
there  being  any  experience  at  all;  so  that  the  difficul- 
ty of  subsequently  extracting  them  from  experience 
does  not  arise.  The  world  of  phenomena  is  in  truth 
their  creation  ;  so  that  the  conformity  between  the 
two  need  not  be  any  subject  of  surprise.  Thus,  at 
one  and  the  same  time  does  idealism  vindicate  ex- 
perience and  set  the  scepticism  of  the  empiricist  at 
rest. 

I  doubt,  however,  whether  this  solution  of  the 
problem  will  really  stand  the  test  of  examination. 
Assuming  for  the  sake  of  argument  that  the  world 
is  constituted  by  '  categories,'  the  old  difficulty  arises 
in  a  new  shape  when  we  ask  on  what  principle  those 
categories  are  in  any  given  case  to  be  applied.  For 
they  are  admittedly  not  of  universal  application  ;  and, 
as  the  idealists  themselves  are  careful  to  remind  us, 
there  is  no  more  fertile  source  of  error  than  the  im- 
portation of  them  into  a  sphere  wherein  they  have 
no  legitimate  business.  Take,  for  example,  the  cate- 
gory of  causation,  from  a  scientific  point  of  view  the 
most  important  of  all.  By  what  right  does  the 
existence  of  this  *  principle  of  relation  '  enable  us  to 
assert  that  throughout  the  whole  world  every  event 
must  have  a  cause,  and  every  cause  must  be  invariably 
succeeded  by  the  same  event  ?  Because  we  can  apply 
the  category,  are  we,  therefore,  bound  to  apply  it? 
Docs  any  absurdity  or  contradiction  ensue  from  our 


l6o  IDEALISM 

supposing  that  the  order  of  Nature  is  arbitrary  and 
casual,  and  that,  repeat  the  antecedent  with  what 
accuracy  we  may,  there  is  no  security  that  the  ac- 
customed consequent  will  follow?  T  must  confess 
that  I  can  perceive  none.  Of  course,  we  should  thus 
be  deprived  of  one  of  our  most  useful  '  principles  of 
unification ' ;  but  this  would  by  no  means  result  in  the 
universe  resolving  itself  into  that  unthinkable  chaos 
of  unrelated  atoms  which  is  the  idealist  bugbear. 
There  are  plenty  of  categories  left ;  and  if  the  final 
aim  of  philosophy  be,  indeed,  to  find  the  Many  in 
One  and  the  One  in  Many,  this  end  would  be  as 
completely,  if  not  as  satisfactorily,  accomplished  by 
conceiving  the  world  to  be  presented  to  the  thinking 
'subject'  in  the  haphazard  multiplicity  of  unordered 
succession,  as  by  any  more  elaborate  method.  Its 
various  elements  lying  side  by  side  in  one  Space  and 
one  Time  would  still  be  related  together  in  the  con- 
tent of  a  single  experience;  they  would  still  form  an 
intelligible  whole;  their  unification  would  thus  be  ef- 
fectually accomplished  without  the  aid  of  the  higher 
categories.  But  it  is  evident  that  a  universe  so  con- 
stituted, though  it  might  not  be  inconsistent  with  Phi- 
losophy, could  never  be  interpreted  by  Science. 

As  w^e  saw  in  the  earlier  portion  of  this  chapter, 
it  is  not  very  easy  to  understand  why,  if  the  universe 
be  constituted  by  relations,  and  relations  are  the 
work  of  the  mind,  the  mind  should  be  dependent  on 
experience  for  finding  out  anything  about  the  uni- 
verse.    But  granting  the  necessity  of  experience,  it 


IDEALISM  l6l 

seems  as  hard  to  make  that  experience  answer  our 
questions  on  the  idealist  as  on  the  empirical  hypothe- 
sis. Neither  on  the  one  theory  nor  on  the  other  does 
any  method  exist  for  extracting  general  truths  out  of 
particular  observations,  unless  .f^wr  general  truths  are 
first  assumed.  On  the  empirical  hypothesis  there  are 
no  such  general  truths.  Pure  empiricism  has,  there- 
fore, no  claim  to  be  a  philosophy.  On  the  idealist 
h3'pothesis  there  appears  to  be  onl)'  one  general  truth 
applicable  to  the  whole  intelligible  world — a  world 
which,  be  it  recollected,  includes  everything  in  re- 
spect to  which  language  can  be  significantly  used  ;  a 
world  which,  therefore,  includes  the  negative  as  well 
as  the  positive,  the  false  as  well  as  the  true,  the  im- 
aginary as  well  as  the  real,  the  impossible  as  well  as 
the  possible.  This  single  all-embracing  truth  is  that 
the  multiplicity  of  phenomena,  whatever  be  its  nature, 
must  always  be  united,  and  only  exists  in  virtue  of 
being  united,  in  the  experience  of  a  single  self-con- 
scious Subject.  But  this  general  proposition,  what- 
ever be  its  value,  cannot,  I  conceive,  effectually  guide 
us  in  tlie  application  of  subordinate  categories.  It 
supplies  us  with  no  method  for  applying  one  principle 
rather  than  another  within  the  field  of  experience.  It 
cannot  give  us  information  as  to  what  portion  oi  that 
field,  if  any,  is  subject  to  the  law  of  causation,  nor 
tell  us  which  of  our  perceptions,  if  any,  may  be  taken 
as  evidence  of  the  existence  of  a  permanent  world 
of  objects  such  as  is  implied  in  all  scientific  doctrine. 
Though,  therefore,  the  old  (|ucsti()ns  come  ujhju  us 
II 


1 62  IDEALISM 

in  a  new  form,  clothed,  I  will  not  say  shrouded,  in  a 
new  terminology,  they  come  upon  us  with  all  the  old 
insistence.  They  are  restated,  but  they  are  not 
solved  ;  and  I  am  unable,  therefore,  to  find  in  idealism 
any  escape  from  the  difficulties  which,  in  the  region 
of  theology,  ethics,  and  science,  empiricism  leaves 
upon  our  hands.^ 

'  I  have  made  in  this  chapter  no  reference  to  the  idealistic  theory 
of  aesthetics.  Holding  the  views  I  have  indicated  upon  the  general 
import  of  idealism,  such  a  course  seemed  unnecessary.  But  I  can- 
not help  thinking  that  even  those  who  find  in  that  theory  a  more 
satisfactory  basis  for  their  convictions  than  I  am  able  to  do,  must 
feel  that  there  is  something  rather  forced  and  arbitrary  in  the  at- 
tempts that  have  been  made  to  exhibit  the  artistic  fancies  of  an 
insignificant  fraction  of  the  human  race  during  avery  brief  period  of 
its  history  as  essential  and  important  elements  in  the  development 
and  manifestation  of  the  '  Idea.' 


CHAPTER  III 

PHILOSOPHY   AND    RATIONALISM 


Briefly,  if  not  adequately,  I  have  now  endeavoured 
to  indicate  the  weaknesses  which  seem  to  me  to  be 
inseparable  from  any  empirical  theory  of  the  uni- 
verse, and  almost  equally  to  beset  the  idealistic 
theory  in  the  form  given  to  it  by  its  most  systematic 
exponents  in  this  country.  The  reader  may  perhaps 
feel  tempted  to  ask  whether  I  propose,  in  what  pur- 
ports to  be  an  Introduction  to  Theology,  to  pass 
under  similar  review  all  the  metaphysical  systems 
which  have  from  time  to  time  held  sway  in  the 
schools,  or  have  affected  the  general  course  of  specu- 
lative opinion.  He  need,  however,  be  under  no  alarm. 
My  object  is  strictly  practical ;  and  I  have  no  con- 
cern with  theories,  however  admirable,  which  can 
no  longer  pretend  to  any  living  philosophic  power 
— which  have  no  de  facto  claims  to  present  us  with 
a  reasoned  scheme  of  knowledge,  and  which  can- 
not prove  their  importance  by  actually  supplying 
grounds  for  the  conviction  of  some  fraction,  at  least,  of 
those  by  whom  these  pages  may  conceivably  be  read. 
In  saying  that  this  condition  is  not  satisfied  by 


l64  PHILOSOPHY   AND    RATIONALISM 

the  great  historic  systems  which  mark  with  their 
imperishable  ruins  the  devious  course  of  European 
thought,  I  must  not  be  understood  as  suggesting  that 
on  that  account  these  lack  either  value  or  interest. 
All  I  say  is,  that  their  interest  is  not  of  a  kind  which 
brings  them  properly  within  the  scope  of  these 
Notes.  Whatever  be  the  nature  or  amount  of  our 
debt  to  the  great  metaphysicians  of  the  past,  unless 
here  and  now  we  go  to  them  not  merely  for  stray 
arguments  on  this  or  that  question,  but  for  a  rea- 
soned scheme  of  knowledge  which  shall  include  as 
elements  our  own  actual  beliefs,  their  theories  are 
not,  for  the  purposes  of  the  present  discussion,  any 
concern  of  ours. 

Now,  of  how  many  systems,  outside  the  two  that 
have  already  been  touched  on,  can  this  even  plausi- 
bly be  asserted  ?  Run  over  in  memory  some  of 
the  most  important.  Men  value  Plato  for  his  imag- 
ination, for  the  genius  with  which  he  hazarded 
solutions  of  the  secular  problems  which  perplex 
mankind,  for  the  finished  art  of  his  dialogue,  for  the 
exquisite  beauty  of  his  style.  But  even  if  it  could  be 
said — which  it  cannot — that  he  left  a  system,  could 
it  be  described  as  a  system  which,  as  such,  has  any 
effectual  vitality  ?  It  would  be  difficult,  perhaps 
impossible,  to  sum  up  our  debts  to  Aristotle.  But 
assuredly  they  do  not  include  a  tenable  theory  of 
the  universe.  The  Stoic  scheme  of  life  may  still 
touch  our  imagination  ;  but  who  takes  any  inter- 
est in  their  metaphysics  ?     Who  cares  for  their  Soul 


PHILOSOPHY    AND    RATIONALISM  165 

of  the  world,  the  periodic  conflagrations,  and  the 
recurring  cycles  of  mundane  events  ?  The  Neo- 
Platonists  were  mystics ;  and  mysticism  is,  as  I  sup- 
pose, an  undying  element  in  human  thought.  But 
who  is  concerned  about  their  hierarchy  of  beings 
connecting  through  infinite  gradations  the  Absolute 
at  one  end  of  the  scale  with  Matter  at  the  other  ? 

These,  however,  it  may  be  said,  were  systems 
belonging  to  the  ancient  world  ;  and  mankind  have 
not  busied  themselves  with  speculation  for  these 
two  thousand  years  and  more  without  making  some 
advance.  I  agree ;  but  in  the  matter  of  pi'oviding 
us  with  a  philosophy — with  a  reasoned  system  of 
knowledge — has  this  advance  been  as  yet  sub- 
stantial? If  the  ancients  fail  us,  do  we,  indeed,  fare 
much  better  with  the  moderns  ?  Are  the  meta- 
physics of  Descartes  more  living  than  his  physics  ? 
Do  his  two  substances  or  kinds  of  substance,  or  the 
single  substance  of  Spinoza,  or  the  innumerable 
substances  of  Leibnitz,  satisfy  the  searcher  after 
truth  ?  From  the  modern  English  form  of  the  em- 
piricism which  dominated  the  eighteenth  century, 
and  the  idealism  which  disputes  its  supremacy  in 
the  nineteenth,  I  have  already  ventured  to  express 
a  reasoned  dissent.  Are  we,  then,  to  look  to  such 
schemes  as  Schopenhauer's  philosophy  of  Will, 
and  Hartmann's  philosophy  of  the  Unconscious,  to 
supply  us  with  the  philosophical  metaphysics  of 
which  we  are  in  need  ?  They  have  admirers  in 
this  country,  but  hardly  convinced    adherents.     Of 


l66  PHILOSOPHY    AND    RATIONALISM 

those  who  are  quite  prepared  to  accept  their  pes- 
simism, how  many  are  there  who  take  seriously  its 
metaphysical  foundation  ? 

In  truth  there  are  but  three  points  of  view  from 
which  it  seems  worth  while  to  make  ourselves  ac- 
quainted with  the  growth,  culmination,  and  decay 
of  the  various  metaphysical  dynasties  which  have 
successively  struggled  for  supremacy  in  the  world 
of  ideas.     The  first  is  purely  historical.     Thus  re- 
garded, metaphysical  systems  are  simply  significant 
phenomena  in  the  general  history  of  man:  symp- 
toms of  his  spiritual   condition,  aids,  it  may  be,  to 
his  spiritual  growth.     The  historian  of  philosophy, 
as  such,  is  therefore   quite  unconcerned   with   the 
truth  or  falsehood  of  the  opinions  whose  evolution 
he  is  expounding.     His  business   is  merely  to  ac- 
count for  their  existence,  to  exhibit  them  in  their 
proper  historical  setting,  and  to  explain  their  char- 
acter and  their  consequences.     But,  so  considered, 
I  find  it  difficult  to  believe  that  these  opinions  have 
been   elements   of   primary   importance   to  the  ad- 
vancement  of   mankind.     All   ages,  indeed,    which 
have  exhibited  intellectual  vigour  have  cultivated 
one  or  more  characteristic  systems  of  metaphysics  ; 
but  rarely,  as  it  seems  to  me,  have  these  systems 
been  in  their  turn  important  elements  in  determin- 
ing the  character  of  the  periods  in  which  they  flour- 
ished.    They  have  been  effects  rather  than  causes  ; 
indications  of  the  mood  in  which,  under  the  special 
stress  of  their  time  and  circumstance,  the  most  de- 


PHILOSOPHY    AND    RATIONALISM  167 

tached  intellects  have  faced  the  eternal  problems  of 
humanity  ;  proofs  of  the  unresting-  desire  of  man- 
kind to  bring  their  beliefs  into  harmony  with  spec- 
ulative reason.  But  the  beliefs  have  almost  always 
preceded  the  speculations  ;  they  have  frequently 
survived  them ;  and  I  cannot  convince  myself  that 
among  the  just  titles  to  our  consideration  some- 
times put  forward  on  behalf  of  metaphysics  we  may 
count  her  claim  to  rank  as  a  powerful  instrument  of 
progress. 

No  doubt — and  here  we  come  to  the  second 
point  of  view  alluded  to  above — the  constant  dis- 
cussion of  these  high  problems  has  not  been  barren 
merely  because  it  has  not  as  yet  led  to  their  solu- 
tion. Philosophers  have  mined  for  truth  in  many 
directions,  and  the  whole  field  of  speculation  seems 
cumbered  with  the  dross  and  lumber  of  their  aban- 
doned workings.  But  though  they  have  not  found 
the  ore  they  sought  for,  it  does  not  therefore  follow 
that  their  labours  have  been  wholly  vain.  It  is 
something  to  have  realised  what  not  to  do.  It  is 
something  to  discover  the  causes  of  failure,  even 
though  we  do  not  attain  any  positive  knowledge  of 
the  conditions  of  success.  It  is  an  even  more  sub- 
stantial gain  to  have  done  something  towards  dis- 
engaging tiie  questions  which  require  to  be  dealt 
with,  and  towards  creating  and  perfecting  the  ter- 
minology without  which  they  can  scarcely  be  ade- 
quately stated,  much  less  satisfactorily  answered. 

And    there    is  yet   a  third    point  of    view   from 


l68  PHILOSOPHY    AND    RATIONALISM 

which  past  metaphysical  speculations  arc  seen  to 
retain  their  value,  a  point  of  view  which  may  be 
called  (not,  I  admit,  without  some  little  violence  to 
accustomed  usage)  the  (esthetic.  Because  reasoning 
occupies  so  large  a  place  in  metaphysical  treatises 
we  are  apt  to  forget  that,  as  a  rule,  these  are  works 
of  imagination  at  least  as  much  as  of  reason.  Meta- 
physicians are  poets  who  deal  with  the  abstract  and 
the  super-sensible  instead  of  the  concrete  and  the 
sensuous.  To  be  sure  they  are  poets  with  a  differ- 
ence. Their  appropriate  and  characteristic  gifts 
are  not  the  vivid  realisation  of  that  which  is  given 
in  experience  ;  their  genius  does  not  prolong,  as  it 
were,  and  echo  through  the  remotest  regions  of  feel- 
ing the  shock  of  some  definite  emotion  ;  they  create 
for  us  no  new  worlds  of  things  and  persons  ;  nor 
can  it  be  often  said  that  the  product  of  their  la- 
bours is  a  thing  of  beauty.  Their  style,  it  must  be 
owned,  has  not  always  been  their  strong  point ;  and 
even  when  it  is  otherwise,  mere  graces  of  presenta- 
tion arc  but  unessential  accidents  of  their  work. 
Yet,  in  spite  of  all  this,  they  can  only  be  justly  es- 
timated by  those  who  are  prepared  to  apply  to 
them  a  quasi-aesthetic  standard  ;  some  other  stand- 
ard, at  all  events,  than  that  supplied  by  purely 
argumentative  comment.  It  may  perhaps  be  shown 
that  their  metaphysical  constructions  are  faulty, 
that  their  demonstrations  do  not  convince,  that 
their  most  permanent  dialectical  triumphs  have 
fallen  to  them  in  the  paths  of  criticism  and  negation. 


PHILOSOPHY   AND    RATIONALISM  1 69 

Yet  even  then  the  last  word  will  not  have  been 
said.  For  claims  to  our  admiration  will  still  be 
found  in  their  brilliant  intuitions,  in  the  subtlety  of 
their  occasional  arguments,  in  their  passion  for  the 
Universal  and  the  x\biding,  in  their  steadfast  faith 
in  the  rationality  of  the  world,  in  the  devotion  with 
which  they  are  content  to  live  and  move  in  realms 
of  abstract  speculation  too  far  removed  from  ordi- 
nary interests  to  excite  the  slightest  genuine  sym- 
pathy in  the  breasts  even  of  the  cultivated  few.  If, 
therefore,  we  are  for  a  moment  tempted,  as  surely 
ma}'  sometimes  happen,  to  contemplate  with  re- 
spectful astonishment  some  of  the  arguments  which 
the  illustrious  authors  of  the  great  historic  systems 
have  thought  good  enough  to  support  their  case, 
let  it  be  remembered  that  for  minds  in  which  the 
critical  intellect  holds  undisputed  sway,  the  crea- 
tion of  any  system  whatever  in  the  present  state  of 
our  knowledge  is,  perhaps,  impossible.  Only  those 
in  whom  powers  of  philosophical  criticism  are  bal- 
anced, or  more  than  balanced,  by  powers  of  meta- 
physical imagination  can  be  fitted  to  undertake  the 
task.  Though  even  to  them  success  may  be  impos- 
sible, at  least  the  illusion  of  success  is  permitted  ; 
and  but  for  them  mankind  would  fall  away  in  hope- 
less discouragement  from  its  highest  intellectual 
ideal,  and  speculation  would  be  strangled  at  its 
birth. 

To  some,  indeed,  it   may   appear  as    if    I  he  loss 
w<nil(l  not,  after  all,  be  great.     What  use,  they  may 


T/O  PHILOSOPHY   AND    RATIONALISM 

exclaim,  can   be  found  for  any   system  which   will 
not  stand    critical   examination?     What    value    has 
reasoning  which  does  not  satisfy  the  reason  ?     How 
can  we  know  that  these  abstruse  investigations  sup- 
ply even  a  fragmentary  contribution  towards  a  final 
philosophy,  until  we   are  able    to  look    back  upon 
them  from  the  perhaps  inaccessible  vantage  ground 
to  be  supplied  by  this  final  philosophy  itself  ?     To 
such  questionings  I  do  not  profess  to  find  a  com- 
pletely  satisfactory  answer.     Yet   even   those  who 
feel  inclined  to  rate  extant  speculations  at  the  low- 
est value  will  perhaps  admit  that  metaphysics,  like 
art,  give  us  something  we  could  ill  afford  to  spare. 
Art  may  not  have  provided  us  with  any  reflection 
of  immortal  beauty  ;  nor  metaphysics  have  brought 
us  into  communion  with    eternal  truth.     Yet  both 
may  have  historic  value.     In  speculation,  as  in  art, 
we  find  a  vivid  expression  of  the  changeful  mind  of 
man,   and    the  interest  of    both,    perhaps,  is   at   its 
highest  when  they  most  clearly  reflect  the  spirit  of 
the  age  which  gave  them  birth,  when  they  are  most 
racy  of  the  soil  from  which  they  sprung. 


i 


II 


To  this  point  I  may  have  to  return.  But  my 
more  immediate  business  is  to  bring  home  to  the 
reader's  mind  the  consequences  which  may  be 
drawn  from  the  admission — supposing  him  disposed 


PHILOSOPHY   AND    RATIONALISM  I/I 

to  make  it — that  we  have  at  the  present  time  neither 
a  satisfactory  system  of  metaphysics  nor  a  satisfac- 
tory theory  of  science.  Many  persons,  perhaps  it 
would  not  be  too  much  to  say  most  persons,  are 
prepared  contentedly  to  accept  the  first  of  these 
propositions ;  but  it  is  on  the  truth  of  the  second 
that  I  desire  to  lay  at  least  an  equal  stress.  The 
first  man  one  meets  in  the  street  thinks  it  quite  nat- 
ural to  accept  the  opinion  that  sense-experience  is 
the  only  source  of  rational  conviction ;  that  every- 
thing to  which  it  does  not  testify  is  untrue,  or,  if 
true,  falls  within  the  domain,  not  of  knowledge,  but 
of  faith.  Yet  the  criticism  of  knowledge  indicated 
in  the  two  preceding  chapters  shows  how  one- 
sided is  such  a  view.  If  faith  be  provisionally  de- 
fined as  conviction  apart  from  or  in  excess  of  proof, 
then  it  is  upon  faith  that  the  maxims  of  daily  life, 
not  less  than  the  loftiest  creeds  and  the  most  far- 
reaching  discoveries,  must  ultimately  lean.  The 
ground  on  which  constant  habit  and  inherited  pre- 
dispositions enable  us  to  tread  with  a  step  so  easy 
and  so  assured,  is  seen  on  examination  to  be  not  less 
hollow  beneath  our  feet  than  the  dim  and  unfamiliar 
regions  which  lie  beyond.  Certitude  is  found  to  be 
the  child,  not  of  Reason,  but  of  Custom  ;  and  if  we 
are  less  perplexed  about  the  beliefs  on  which  we 
are  hourly  called  upon  to  act  than  about  those 
which  do  not  touch  so  closely  our  obvious  and  im- 
mediate needs,  it  is  not  because  the  questions  sug- 
gested by  the  former  are  easier  to  answer,  but  be- 


1/2  PHILOSOPHY    AND    RATIONALISM 

cause  as  a  matter  of  fact  we  are  much  less  inclined 
to  ask  them. 

Now,  if  this  be  true,  it  is  plainly  a  fact  of  capi- 
tal importance.  It  must  revolutionise  our  whole 
attitude  towards  the  problems  presented  to  us  by 
science,  ethics,  and  theology.  It  must  destroy  the 
ordinary  tests  and  standards, whereby  we  measure 
essential  truth.  In  particular,  it  requires  us  to  see 
what  is  commonly,  if  rather  absurdly,  called  the 
conflict  between  religion  and  science  in  a  wholly 
new  aspect.  We  can  no  longer  be  content  with  the 
simple  view,  once  universally  accepted,  that  when- 
ever any  discrepancy,  real  or  supposed,  occurs  be- 
tween the  two,  science  must  be  rejected  as  hereti- 
cal ;  nor  with  the  equally  simple  view,  to  which  the 
former  has  long  given  place,  that  every  theological 
statement,  if  unsupported  by  science,  is  doubtful ; 
if  inconsistent  with  science,  is  false. 

Opinions  like  these  are  evidently  tolerable  only 
on  the  hypothesis  that  we  are  in  possession  of  a 
body  of  doctrine  which  is  not  only  itself  philosoph- 
ically established,  but  to  whose  canons  of  proof 
all  other  doctrines  are  bound  to  conform.  But  if 
there  is  no  such  body  of  doctrine,  what  then  ?  Are 
we  arbitrarily  to  erect  one  department  of  belief  into 
a  law-giver  for  all  the  others  ?  Are  we  to  say  that 
though  no  scheme  of  knowledge  exists,  certain  in 
its  first  principles,  and  coherent  in  its  elaborated 
conclusions,  yet  that  from  among  the  provisional 
schemes  which  we  are  inclined  practically  to  accept 


PHILOSOPHY   AND   RATIONALISM  1 73 

one  is  to  be  selected  at  random,  within  whose  limits, 
and  there  alone,  the  spirit  of  man  may  range  in  con- 
fident security  ? 

Such  a  position  is  speculatively  untenable.  It 
involves  a  use  of  the  Canon  of  Consistency  not 
justified  by  any  philosophy  ;  and  as  it  is  indefensible 
in  theory,  so  it  is  injurious  in  practice.  For,  in  truth, 
though  the  contented  acquiescence  in  inconsistency 
is  the  abandonment  of  the  philosophic  quest,  the  de- 
termination to  obtain  consistency  at  all  costs  has 
been  the  prolific  parent  of  many  intellectual  narrow- 
nesses and  many  frigid  bigotries.  It  has  shown 
itself  in  various  shapes  ;  it  has  stifled  and  stunted 
the  free  movement  of  thought  in  different  ages  and 
diverse  schools  of  speculation  ;  its  unhappy  effects 
may  be  traced  in  much  theology  which  professes  to 
be  orthodox,  in  much  criticism  which  delights  to  be 
heterodox.  It  is,  moreover,  the  characteristic  note 
of  a  not  inconsiderable  class  of  intelligences  who 
conceive  themselves  to  be  specially  reasonable  be- 
cause they  are  constantly  employed  in  reasoning, 
and  who  can  find  no  better  method  of  advancing 
the  cause  of  knowledge  than  to  press  to  their  ex- 
treme logical  conclusions  principles  of  wliich,  per- 
haps, the  best  that  can  be  said  is  that  they  contain, 
as  it  were  in  solution,  some  element  of  truth  which 
no  reagents  at  our  command  will  as  yet  permit  us  to 
isolate. 


174  PHILOSOPHY   AND   RATIONALISM 


III 


That  I  am  here  attacking  no  imaginary  evil 
Avill,  I  think,  be  evident  to  any  reader  who  recalls 
the  general  trend  of  educated  opinion  during  the 
last  three  centuries.  It  is,  of  course,  true  that  in 
dealing  with  so  vague  and  loosely  outlined  an  object 
as 'educated  opinion'  we  must  beware  of  attribut- 
ing to  large  masses  of  men  the  acceptance  of  any 
carefully-thought-out  or  definitely  articulated  sys- 
tem. Systems  are,  and  must  be,  for  the  few.  The 
majority  of  mankind  are  content  with  a  mood  or 
temper  of  thought,  an  impulse  not  fully  reasoned 
out,  a  habit  guiding  them  to  the  acceptance  and 
assimilation  of  some  opinions  and  the  rejection  of 
others,  which  acts  almost  as  automatically  as  the 
processes  of  physical  digestion.  Behind  these  half- 
realised  motives,  and  in  closest  association  with 
them,  may  sometimes,  no  doubt,  be  found  a  'theory 
of  things '  which  is  their  logical  and  explicit  expres- 
sion. But  it  is  certainly  not  necessary,  and  perhaps 
not  usual,  that  this  theory  should  be  clearly  formu- 
lated by  those  who  seem  to  obey  it.  Nor  for  our 
present  purpose  is  there  any  important  distinction 
to  be  made  between  the  case  of  the  few  who  find  a 
reason  for  their  habitual  judgments,  and  that  of  the 
many  who  do  not. 

Keeping  this  caution  in  mind,  we  may  consider 
without  risk  of  misconception  an  illustration  of  the 


PHILOSOPHY   AND    RATIONALISM  175 

misuse  of  the  Canon  of  Consistency  provided  for  us 
by  the  theory  corresponding  to  that  tendency  of 
thought  which  has  played  so  large  a  part  in  the 
development  of  the  modern  mind,  and  which  is 
commonly  known  as  Rationalism.  Now  what  is 
Rationalism  ?  Some  may  be  disposed  to  reply  that 
it  is  the  free  and  unfettered  application  of  human 
intelligence  to  the  problems  of  life  and  of  the  world ; 
the  unprejudiced  examination  of  every  question  in 
the  dry  light  of  emancipated  reason.  This  may  be 
a  very  good  account  of  a  particular  intellectual 
ideal ;  an  ideal  which  has  been  sought  after  at  many 
periods  of  the  world's  history,  although  assuredly  it 
has  been  attained  in  none.  Usage,  however,  per- 
mits and  even  encourages  us  to  employ  the  word 
in  a  much  more  restricted  sense :  as  indicating  a 
special  form  of  that  reaction  against  dogmatic  the- 
ology which  may  be  said  with  sufficient  accuracy  to 
have  taken  its  rise  in  the  Renaissance,  to  have  in- 
creased in  force  and  volume  during  the  seventeenth 
and  eighteenth  centuries,  and  to  have  reached  its 
most  complete  expression  in  the  Naturalism  which 
occupied  our  attention  through  the  first  portion 
of  these  Notes.  A  reaction  of  some  sort  was  no 
doubt  inevitable.  Men  found  themselves  in  a  world 
where  Literature,  Art,  and  Science  were  enormous- 
ly extending  the  range  of  human  interests;  in  which 
Religion  seemed  only  to  be  approachable  through 
the  languishing  controversies  which  had  burnt  with 
so  fierce  a  flame  during  the  sixteenth  and  seven- 


1/6  PHILOSOPHY   AND   RATIONALISM 

teenth  centuries ;  in  which  accepted  theological 
methods  had  their  roots  in  a  very  different  period 
of  intellectual  growth,  and  were  ceasing  to  be 
appropriate  to  the  new  developments.  At  such  a 
time  there  was,  undoubtedly,  an  important  and  even 
a  necessary  work  to  be  done.  The  mind  of  man 
cannot,  any  more  than  the  body,  vary  in  one  direc- 
tion alone.  The  whole  organism  suffers  or  gains 
from  the  change,  and  every  faculty  and  every  limb 
must  be  somewhat  modified  in  order  successfully  to 
meet  the  new  demands  thrown  upon  it  by  the 
altered  balance  of  the  remainder.  So  is  it  also  in 
matters  intellectual.  It  is  hopeless  to  expect  that 
new  truths  and  new  methods  of  investigation  can  be 
acquired  without  the  old  truths  requiring  to  be  in 
some  respects  reconsidered  and  restated,  surveyed 
under  a  new  aspect,  measured,  perhaps,  by  a  differ- 
ent standard.  Much  had,  therefore,  to  be  modified, 
and  something — let  us  admit  it — had  to  be  destroyed. 
The  new  system  could  hardly  produce  its  best 
results  until  the  refuse  left  by  the  old  system  had 
been  removed  ;  until  the  waste  products  were  elimi- 
nated which,  like  those  of  a  muscle  too  long  exer- 
cised, poisoned  and  clogged  the  tissues  in  which 
they  had  once  played  the  part  of  living  and  effec- 
tive elements. 

The  world,  then,  required  enlightenment,  and 
the  rationalists  proceeded  after  their  own  fashion  to 
enlighten  it.  Unfortunately,  however,  their  whole 
procedure  was  tainted  by  an  original  vice  of  method 


PHILOSOPHY   AND    RATIONALISM  177 

which  made  it  impossible  to  carry  on  the  honour- 
able, if  comparatively  humble,  work  of  clearance 
and  purification  without,  at  the  same  time,  destroy- 
ing much  that  ought  properly  to  have  been  pre- 
served. They  were  not  content  with  protesting 
against  practical  abuses,  with  vindicating  the  free- 
dom of  science  from  theological  bondage,  with  criti- 
cising the  defects  and  explaining  the  limitations  of 
the  somewhat  cumbrous  and  antiquated  apparatus 
of  prevalent  theological  controversy — apparatus,  no 
doubt,  much  better  contrived  for  dealing  with  the 
points  on  which  theologians  differ  than  for  defend- 
ing against  a  common  cnem}'  the  points  on  which 
theologians  are  for  the  most  part  agreed.  These 
things,  no  doubt,  to  the  best  of  their  power,  the}' 
did ;  and  to  the  doing  of  them  no  objection  need  be 
raised.  The  objection  is  to  the  principle  on  which 
the  things  were  done.  That  principle  appeared 
imder  many  disguises,  and  was  called  by  many 
names.  Sometimes  describing  itself  as  Common- 
sense,  sometimes  as  Science,  sometimes  as  Enlight- 
enment, with  infinite  varieties  of  application  and 
great  diversity  of  doctrine.  Rationalism  consisted 
essentially  in  the  application,  consciously  or  uncon- 
sciously, of  one  great  method  to  the  decision  of 
every  controversy,  to  the  moulding  of  evei-y  creed. 
Did  a  belief  square  with  a  view  of  the  universe 
based  exclusively  upon  the  prevalent  mode  of  inter- 
preting sense-perception?  Tf  so,  it  might  survive. 
Did  it  clash  with  such  mode,  or  lie  beyond  it?  It 
12 


178  PHILOSOPHY   AND   RATIONALISM 

was  superstitious;  it  was  unscientific;  it  was  ridicu- 
lous ;  in  was  incredible.  Was  it  neither  in  harmony 
with  nor  antagonistic  to  such  a  view,  but  simply  be- 
side it?  It  mig-ht  live  on  until  it  became  atrophied 
from  lack  of  use,  a  mere  survival  of  a  dead  past. 

These  judgments  were  not,  as  a  rule,  supported 
by  any  very  profound  arguments.  Rationalists  as 
such  are  not  philosophers.  They  are  not  pantheists 
nor  speculative  materialists.  They  ignore,  if  they 
do  not  despise,  metaphysics,  and  in  practice  es- 
chew the  search  for  first  principles.  But  they  judge 
as  men  of  the  world,  equally  reluctant  to  criticise 
too  closely  methods  which  succeed  so  admirably  in 
everyday  affairs,  or  to  admit  that  any  other  methods 
can  possibly  be  required  by  men  of  sense. 

Of  course,  a  principle  so  loosely  conceived  has 
led  at  different  times  and  in  different  stages  of 
knowledge  to  very  different  results.  Through  the 
greater  portion  of  the  world's  history  the  '  ordinary 
mode  of  interpreting  sense-perception '  has  been 
perfectly  consistent  with  so-called  'supernatural' 
phenomena.  It  may  become  so  again.  And  if  dur- 
ing the  rationalising  centuries  this  has  not  been  the 
case,  it  is  because  the  interpretation  of  sense-per- 
ceptions has  during  that  period  been  more  and 
more  governed  by  that  Naturalistic  theory  of  the 
world  to  which  it  has  been  steadily  gravitating.  It 
is  true  that  the  process  of  eliminating  incongruous 
beliefs  has  been  gradual.  The  general  body  of  ra- 
tionalisers have  been  slow  to  see  and   reluctant  to 


PHILOSOPHY   AND   RATIONALISM  179 

accept  the  full  consequences  of  their  own  princi- 
ples. The  assumption  that  the  kind  of  '  experience' 
which  gave  us  natural  science  was  the  sole  basis  of 
knowledge  did  not  at  first,  or  necessarily,  carry 
with  it  the  further  inference  that  nothing  deserved 
to  be  called  knowledge  which  did  not  come  within 
the  circle  of  the  natural  sciences.  But  the  inference 
was  practically,  if  not  logically,  inevitable.  Theism, 
Deism,  Design,  Soul,  Conscience,  Morality,  Immor- 
tality, Freedom,  Beauty — these  and  cognate  words 
associated  with  the  memory  of  great  controversies 
mark  the  points  at  which  rationalists  who  are  not 
also  naturalists  have  sought  to  come  to  terms  with 
the  rationalising  spirit,  or  to  make  a  stand  against 
its  onw^ard  movement.  It  has  been  in  vain.  At 
some  places  the  fortunes  of  battle  hung  long  in 
the  balance ;  at  others  the  issues  may  yet  seem 
doubtful.  Those  who  have  given  up  God  can  still 
make  a  fisfht  for  conscience ;  those  who  have 
abandoned  moral  responsibility  may  still  console 
themselves  with  artistic  beauty.  But,  to  my  think- 
ing, at  least,  the  struggle  can  have  but  one  termina- 
1  ion.  1  labit  and  education  may  delay  the  inevitable 
conclusion ;  they  cannot  in  the  end  avert  it.  For 
these  ideas  are  no  native  growth  of  a  rationalist 
epoch,  strong  in  their  harmony  with  contemporary 
moods  of  thought.  They  are  the  products  of  a  dif- 
ferent age,  survivals  from,  as  some  think,  a  decay- 
ing system.  And  howsoever  stubbornly  they  may 
resist  the  influences  of  an  alien  environment,  if  this 


IcSo  PHILOSOPHY   AND    RATIONALISM 

undergoes  no  change,  in  the  end  they  must  surely 
perish. 

Naturalism,  then,  the  naturalism  whose  practical 
consequences  have  already  occupied  us  so  long,  is 
nothing  more  than  the  result  of  rationalising  meth- 
ods applied  with  pitiless  consistency  to  the  whole 
circuit  of  belief;  it  is  the  completed  product  of  ra- 
tionalism, the  final  outcome  of  using  the  '  current 
methods  of  interpreting  sense-perception '  as  the 
universal  instrument  for  determining  the  nature 
and  fixing  the  limits  of  human  knowledge.  What 
wealth  of  spiritual  possession  this  creed  requires  us 
to  give  up  I  have  already  explained.  What,  then, 
does  it  promise  us  in  exchange  ?  It  promises  us 
Consistency.  Religion  may  perish  at  its  touch,  it 
may  strip  Virtue  and  Beauty  of  their  most  precious 
attributes ;  but  in  exchange  it  promises  us  Con- 
sistency. True,  the  promise  is  in  any  circum- 
stances but  imperfectly  kept.  This  creed,  which 
so  arrogantly  requires  that  everything  is  to  be 
made  consistent  with  it,  is  not,  as  we  have  seen, 
consistent  with  itself.  The  humblest  attempts  to 
co-ordinate  and  to  justify  the  assumptions  on  which 
it  proceeds  with  such  unquestioning  confidence 
bring  to  light  speculative  perplexities  and  contra- 
dictions whose  very  existence  seems  unsuspected, 
whose  solution  is  not  even  attempted.  But  even 
were  it  otherwise  we  should  still  be  bound  to  pro- 
test against  the  assumption  that  consistency  is  a 
necessity  of  the  intellectual  life,  to  be  purchased,  if 


PHILOSOrHY    AND    RATIONALISM  l8l 

need  be,  at  famine  prices.  It  is  a  valuable  commod- 
ity, but  it  may  be  bought  too  dear.  No  doubt  a 
principal  function  of  Reason  is  to  smooth  away  con- 
tradictions, to  knock  off  corners,  and  to  fit,  as  far  as 
may  be,  each  separate  belief  into  its  proper  place 
within  the  framework  of  one  harmonious  creed. 
No  doubt,  also,  it  is  impossible  to  regard  any  theory 
which  lacks  self-consistenc}'  as  either  satisfactory  or 
final.  But  principles  going  far  beyond  admissions 
like  these  are  required  to  compel  us  to  acquiesce 
in  rationalising  methods  and  naturalistic  results,  to 
the  destruction  of  every  form  of  belief  with  which 
the}'  do  not  happen  to  agree.  Before  such  terms  of 
surrender  are  accepted,  at  least  the  victorious  sys- 
tem must  show,  not  merely  that  its  various  parts  arc 
consistent  with  each  other,  but  that  the  whole  is 
authenticated  by  Reason.  Until  this  task  is  accom- 
plished (and  how  far  at  present  it  is  from  being  ac- 
complished in  the  case  of  naturalism  the  reader 
knows)  it  would  be  an  act  of  mere  blundering  Un- 
reason to  set  up  as  the  universal  standard  of  belief 
a  theory  of  things  which  itself  stands  in  so  great 
need  of  rational  defence,  or  to  make  a  reckless  and 
unthinking  application  of  the  canon  of  consistency 
when  our  knowledge  of  first  principles  is  so  mani- 
festly defective. 


CHAPTER   IV 

RATIONALIST   ORTHODOXY 

At  this  point,  however,  it  may  perhaps  occur  to 
the  reader  that  I  have  somewhat  too  lightly  as- 
sumed that  Rationalism  is  the  high-road  to  Natural- 
ism. Why,  it  may  be  asked,  is  there  any  insuper- 
able difficulty  in  framing  another  scheme  of  belief 
which  shall  permanently  satisfy  the  requirements  of 
consistency,  and  harmonise  in  its  general  procedure 
with  the  rationalising  spirit  ?  Why  are  we  to  as- 
sume that  the  extreme  type  of  this  mode  of  thought 
is  the  only  stable  type  ?  Such  doubts  would  be  the 
more  legitimate  because  there  is  actually  in  exis- 
tence a  scheme  of  great  historic  importance,  and 
some  present  interest,  by  which  it  has  been  sought 
to  run  Modern  Science  and  Theology  together  into 
a  single  coherent  and  self-sufficient  system  of 
thought,  by  the  simple  process  of  making  Science 
supply  all  the  premises  on  which  theological  conclu- 
sions are  afterwards  based.  If  this  device  be  really 
adequate,  no  doubt  much  of  what  was  said  in  the 
last  chapter,  and  much  that  will  have  to  be  said 
in  future  chapters,  becomes  superfluous.  If  'our 
ordinary  method  of  interpreting  sense-perception,' 
which  gives  us  Science,  is   able  also  to  supply  us 


RATIONALIST   ORTHODOXY  183 

with  Theology,  then  at  least,  whether  it  be  philt)- 
sophically  valid  or  not,  the  majority  of  mankind  may 
very  well  rest  content  with  it  until  philosophers 
come  to  some  agreement  about  a  better.  If  it  does 
not  satisfy  the  philosophic  critic,  it  will  probably 
satisfy  everyone  else  ;  and  even  the  philosophic 
critic  need  not  quarrel  with  its  practical  outcome. 

The  system  by  which  these  results  are  thought 
to  be  attained  pursues  the  following  method.  It 
divides  Theology  into  Natural  and  Revealed.  Nat- 
ural Theology  expounds  the  theological  beliefs 
which  may  be  arrived  at  by  a  consideration  of  the 
general  course  of  Nature  as  this  is  explained  to  us 
by  Science.  It  dwells  principally  upon  the  number- 
less examples  of  adaptation  in  the  organic  world, 
which  apparently  display  the  most  marvellous  indi- 
cations of  ingenious  contrivance,  and  the  nicest  ad- 
justment of  means  to  ends.  From  facts  like  these 
it  is  inferred  that  Nature  has  an  intelligent  and  a 
powerful  Creator.  From  the  further  fact  that  these 
adjustments  and  contrivances  arc  in  a  large  number 
of  cases  designed  for  the  interests  of  beings  capable 
of  pleasure  and  pain,  it  is  inferred  that  the  Creator 
is  not  only  intelligent  and  powerful,  but  also  benevo- 
lent ;  and  the  inquiring  mind  is  then  supposed  to  be 
sufficiently  prepared  to  consider  without  prejudice 
the  evidence  for  there  having  been  a  special  Revela- 
tion by  which  further  truths  may  have  been  im- 
parted, not  otherwise  accessible  to  our  unassisted 
powers  of  speculation. 


1 84  RATIONALIST   ORTHODOXY 

The  evidences  of  Revealed  Religion  are  not 
drawn,  like  those  of  Natural  Religion,  from  general 
laws  and  widely  disseminated  particulars  ;  but  they 
profess  none  the  less  to  be  solely  based  upon  facts 
which,  according  to  the  classification  I  have  adhered 
to  throughout  these  Notes,  belong  to  the  scientific 
order.  According  to  this  theory,  the  logical  bur- 
den of  the  entire  theological  structure  is  thrown 
upon  the  evidence  for  certain  events  which  took 
place  long  ago,  and  principally  in  a  small  district  to 
the  east  of  the  Mediterranean,  the  occurrence  of 
which  is  sought  to  be  proved  by  the  ordinary 
methods  of  historical  investigation,  and  by  these 
alone — unless,  indeed,  we  are  to  regard  as  an  im- 
portant ally  the  aforementioned  presumption  sup- 
plied by  Natural  Theology.  It  is  true,  of  course, 
that  the  immediate  reason  for  accepting  the  beliefs 
of  Revealed  Religion  is  that  the  religion  is  revealed. 
But  it  is  thought  to  be  revealed  because  it  was  pro- 
mulgated by  teachers  who  were  inspired  ;  the  teach- 
ers are  thought  to  have  been  inspired  because 
they  worked  miracles ;  and  they  are  thought  to 
have  worked  miracles  because  there  is  historical 
evidence  of  the  fact,  which  it  is  supposed  would  be 
more  than  sufficient  to  produce  conviction  in  any 
unbiassed  mind. 

Now  it  must  be  conceded  that  if  this  general 
train  of  reasoning  be  assumed  to  cover  the  whole 
ground  of  '  Christian  Evidences,'  then,  whether  it 
be  conclusive  or  inconclusive,  it  does  at  least  attain 


RATIONALIST   ORTHODOXY  1 85 

the  desideratum  of  connecting  Science  on  the  one 
hand,  Religion — ^' Natural'  and  'Revealed' — on  the 
other,  into  one  single  scheme  of  interconnected  prop- 
ositions. But  it  attains  it  by  making  Theology  in 
form  a  mere  annex  or  appendix  to  Science  ;  a  mere 
footnote  to  history  ;  a  series  of  conclusions  inferred 
from  data  which  have  been  arrived  at  by  precise- 
ly the  same  methods  as  those  which  enable  us  to 
pronounce  upon  the  probability  of  any  other  events 
in  the  past  history  of  man,  or  of  the  world  in  which 
he  lives.  We  are  no  longer  dealing  with  a  creed 
whose  real  premises  lie  deep  in  the  nature  of 
things.  It  is  no  question  of  metaphysical  specula- 
tion, moral  intuition,  or  mystical  ecstasy  with  which 
we  are  concerned.  We  arc  asked  to  believe  the 
Universe  to  have  been  designed  by  a  Deity  for  the 
same  sort  of  reason  that  we  believe  Canterbury 
Cathedral  to  have  been  designed  by  an  architect ; 
and  to  believe  in  the  events  narrated  in  the  Gospels 
for  the  same  sort  of  reason  that  we  believe  in  the 
murder  of  Thomas  a  Becket. 

Now  I  am  not  concerned  to  maintain  that  these 
arguments  are  bad  ;  on  the  contrary,  my  personal 
opinion  is  that,  as  far  as  they  go,  they  are  good. 
The  argument,  or  perhaps  I  should  say  an  argu- 
ment, from  design,  in  some  shape  or  other,  will  al- 
ways have  value ;  while  the  argument  from  history 
must  always  form  a  part  of  the  evidence  for  any 
historical  religion.  The  first  will,  in  my  opinion, 
survive  any  inferences  from  the  doctrine  of  natural 


I  86  RATIONALIST   ORTHODOXY 

selection ;  the  second  will  survive  the  consequences 
of  critical  assaults.  But  more  than  this  is  desirable; 
more  than  this  is,  indeed,  necessary.  For  however 
good  arguments  of  this  sort  are,  or  may  be  made, 
they  are  not  equal  by  themselves  to  the  task  of  up- 
setting so  massive  an  obstacle  as  developed  Natur- 
alism. They  have  not,  as  it  were,  sufficient  intrinsic 
energy  to  effect  so  great  a  change.  They  may  not 
be  ill  directed,  but  they  lack  momentum.  They  may 
not  be  technically  defective,  but  they  are  assuredly 
practically  inadequate. 

To  many  this  may  appear  self-evident.  Those 
who  doubt  it  will,  I  think,  be  convinced  of  its  truth 
if  they  put  themselves  for  a  moment  in  the  position 
of  a  man  trained  on  the  strictest  principles  of  Natu- 
ralism ;  acquainted  with  the  general  methods  and 
results  of  Science  ;  cognisant  of  the  general  course 
of  secular  human  history,  and  of  the  means  by 
which  the  critic  and  the  scholar  have  endeavoured 
to  extort  the  truth  from  the  records  of  the  past.  To 
such  a  man  the  growth  and  decay  of  great  religions, 
the  legends  of  wonders  worked  and  suffering  en- 
dured by  holy  men  in  many  ages  and  in  different 
countries,  are  familiar  facts— to  be  fitted  somehow 
into  his  general  scheme  of  knowledge.  They  are 
phenomena  to  be  explained  by  anthropology  and 
sociology,  instructive  examples  of  the  operation  of 
natural  law  at  a  particular  stage  of  human  develop- 
ment— this,  and  nothing  more. 

Now  present  to  one  whose  mind   has  been  so 


RATIONALIST    ORTHODOXY  1 87 

prepared  and  disciplined,  first  this  account  of  Natu- 
ral Religion,  and  then  this  version  of  the  evidences 
for  Revelation.  So  far  as  Natural  Religion  is  con- 
cerned he  will  probably  content  himself  with  say- 
ing, that  to  argue  from  the  universality  of  causation 
within  the  world  to  the  necessity  of  First  Cause 
outside  the  world  is  a  process  of  very  doubtful  va- 
lidity :  that  to  argue  from  the  character  of  the 
world  to  the  benevolence  of  its  Author  is  a  process 
more  doubtful  still :  but  that,  in  any  case,  we  need 
not  disturb  ourselves  about  matters  we  so  little 
understand,  inasmuch  as  the  Deity  thus  inferred, 
if  He  really  exists,  completed  the  only  task  which 
Natural  Religion  supposes  Him  to  have  undertaken 
when,  in  a  past  immeasurably  remote,  he  set  going 
the  machinery  of  causes  and  effects,  which  has  ever 
since  been  in  undisturbed  operation,  and  about 
which  alone  we  have  any  real  sources  of  information. 
Supposing,  however,  you  have  induced  your 
Naturalistic  philosopher  to  accept,  if  only  for  the 
sake  of  argument,  this  version  of  Natural  Religion, 
what  will  he  say  to  your  method  of  extracting  the 
proofs  of  Revealed  Religion  from  the  Gospel  his- 
tory? Explain  to  him  that  there  is  good  historic 
evidence  of  the  usual  sort  for  believing  that  for  one 
brief  interval  during  the  history  of  the  Universe, 
and  in  one  small  corner  of  this  planet,  the  continu- 
ous chain  of  universal  causation  has  been  broken  ; 
that  in  an  insignificant  country  inhabited  by  an  un- 
important branch  of  the  Semitic  peoples  events  are 


1 88  RATIONALIST   ORTHODOXY 

alleged  to  have  taken  place  which,  if   they  really 
occurred,  at  once  turn  into  foolishness  the   whole 
theory  in   the  light  of  which    he  has   been  accus- 
tomed to  interpret  human  experience,  and  convey 
to  us  knowledge  which   no  mere  contemplation  of 
the  general  order  of  Nature  could  enable  us  even 
dimly   to   anticipate.     What   would    be    his  reply? 
His  reply  would  be,  nay,  is  (for  our  imaginary  in- 
terlocutor has  unnumbered  prototypes  in  the  world 
about  us),  that  questions  like  these  can  scarcely  be 
settled  by  the  mere  accumulation  of  historic  proofs. 
Granting   all   that  was  asked,  and  more,   perhaps, 
than  ought  to  be  conceded  ;  granting  that  the  evi- 
dences for  these  wonders  was  far  stronger  than  any 
that  could  be  produced  in  favour  of  the  apocryphal 
miracles  which  crowd  the  annals  of  every  people  ; 
granting  even  that  the  evidence  seemed  far  more 
than  sufficient   to  establish   any  incident,  however 
strange,  which  does   not   run  counter   to   the   rec- 
ognised course  of  Nature  ;  what  then  ?     We  were 
face  to  face  with  a  difficulty,  no  doubt ;  but  the  in- 
terpretation of  the  past  was  necessarily  full  of  dif- 
ficulties.    Conflicts   of    testimony    with   antecedent 
probability,  conflicts  of  different   testimonies  with 
each   other,  were  the   familiar   perplexities   of   the 
historic  inquirer.     In  thousands  of  cases  no  abso- 
lutely  satisfactory    solution   could    be    arrived    at. 
Possibly  the   Gospel   histories   were  among   these. 
Neither   the    theory    of    myths,  nor   the    theory  of 
contemporary  fraud,  nor  the  theory  of  late  inven- 


RATIONALIST   ORTHODOXY  1 89 

tion,  nor  any  other  which  the  ingenuit}'  of  critics 
could  devise,  might  provide  a  perfectl}'  clean-cut 
explanation  of  the  phenomena.  But  at  least  it 
might  be  said  with  confidence  that  no  explanation 
could  be  less  satisfactory  than  one  which  required 
us,  on  the  strength  of  three  or  four  ancient  docu- 
ments— at  the  best  written  by  eye-witnesses  of  little 
education  and  no  scientific  knowledge,  at  the  worst 
spurious  and  of  no  authority — to  remodel  and  revo- 
lutionise every  principle  which  governs  us  with  an 
unquestioned  jurisdiction  in  our  judgments  on  the 
Universe  at  large. 

Thus,  slightly  modifying  Hume,  might  the  dis- 
ciple of  Naturalism  repl)^  And  as  against  the 
rationalising  theologian,  is  not  his  answer  conclu- 
sive ?  The  former  has  borrowed  the  premises,  the 
methods,  and  all  the  positive  conclusions  of  Nat- 
uralism. He  advances  on  the  same  strategic  prin- 
ciples, and  from  the  same  base  of  operations.  And 
though  he  professes  by  these  means  to  have  over- 
run a  whole  continent  of  alien  conclusions  with 
which  Naturalism  will  have  nothing  to  do,  can  he 
permanently  retain  it?  Is  it  not  certain  that  the 
huge  expanse  of  his  theology,  attached  by  so  slen- 
der a  tie  to  the  main  system  of  which  it  is  intended 
to  be  a  dependency,  will  sooner  or  later  have  to  be 
abandoned  ;  and  that  the  weak  and  artificial  con- 
nection which  has  been  so  ingeniously  contrived 
will  snap  at  the  first  strain  to  which  it  shall  be  sub- 
jected by  the  forces  cither  of  criticism  or  sentiment  ? 


PART  III 

SOME   CAUSES   OF   BELIEF 


CHAPTER  I 

CAUSES   OF   EXPERIENCE 


So  far  the  results  at  which  we  have  arrived  may  be 
not  unfairly  described  as  purely  negative.  In  the 
first  part  of  these  Notes  I  endeavoured  to  show  that 
Naturalism  was  practically  insufficient.  In  the  first 
chapter  of  Part  II.  I  indicated  the  view  that  it  was 
speculatively  incoherent.  The  obvious  conclusion 
was  therefore  drawn,  that  under  these  circumstances 
it  was  in  the  highest  degree  absurd  to  employ  with 
an  unthinking  rigour  the  canon  of  consistency  as  if 
Rationalism,  which  is  Naturalism  in  embryo,  or 
Naturalism,  which  is  Rationalism  developed,  placed 
us  in  the  secure  possession  of  some  unerring 
standard  of  truth  to  which  all  our  beliefs  must  be 
made  to  conform.  A  brief  criticism  of  one  theolog- 
ical scheme,  by  which  it  has  been  sought  to  avoid 
the  narrownesses  of  Naturalism  without  break- 
ing with  Rationalising  methods,  confirmed  the  con- 
clusion that  any  such  procedure  is  predestined  to 
be  ineffectual,  and  that  no  mere  inferences  of  the 
ordinary  pattern,  based  upon  ordinar)^  experience, 
will  enable  us  to  break  out  of  the  Naturalistic 
prison-house. 
13 


194  CAUSES   OF   EXPERIENCE 

But  if  Naturalism  by  itself  be  practically  insuf- 
ficient, if  no  conclusion  based  on  its  afifirmations  will 
enable  us  to  escape  from  the  cold  grasp  of  its  nega- 
tions, and  if,  as  I  think,  the  contrasted  system  of 
Idealism  has  not  as  yet  got  us  out  of  the  difficulty, 
what  remedy  remains?  One  such  remedy  consists 
in  simply  setting  up  side  by  side  with  the  creed  of 
natural  science  another  and  supplementary  set  of 
beliefs,  which  may  minister  to  needs  and  aspirations 
which  science  cannot  meet,  and  may  speak  amid 
silences  which  science  is  powerless  to  break.  The 
natural  world  and  the  spiritual  world,  the  world 
which  is  immediately  subject  to  causation  and  the 
world  which  is  immediately  subject  to  God,  are,  on 
this  view,  each  of  them  real,  and  each  of  them  the 
objects  of  real  knowledge.  But  the  laws  of  the 
natural  world  are  revealed  to  us  by  the  discoveries 
of  science ;  while  the  laws  of  the  spiritual  world  are 
revealed  to  us  through  the  authority  of  spiritual 
intuitions,  inspired  witnesses,  or  divinely  guided 
institutions.  And  the  two  regions  of  knowledge  lie 
side  by  side,  contiguous  but  not  connected,  like  em- 
pires of  different  race  and  language,  which  own  no 
common  jurisdiction  nor  hold  any  intercourse  with 
each  other,  except  along  a  disputed  and  wavering 
frontier  where  no  superior  power  exists  to  settle 
their  quarrels  or  determine  their  respective  limits. 

To  thousands  of  persons  this  patchwork  scheme 
of  belief,  though  it  may  be  in  a  form  less  sharply 
defined,  has,  in  substance,  commended  itself;  and  if 


CAUSES   OF   EXPERIENCE  I95 

and  in  so  far  as  it  reall)-  meets  their  needs  I  have 
nothing  to  say  against  it,  and  can  hold  out  small 
hope  of  bettering  it.  It  is  much  more  satisfactory 
as  regards  its  content  than  Naturalism  ;  it  is  not 
much  less  philosophical  as  regards  its  method ; 
and  it  has  the  practical  merit  of  supplying  a  rough- 
and-ready  expedient  for  avoiding  the  consequences 
which  follow  from  a  premature  endeavour  to  force 
the  general  body  of  belief  into  the  rigid  limits  of 
one  too  narrow  system. 

It  has,  however,  obvious  inconveniences.  There 
are  many  persons,  and  they  are  increasing  in  num- 
ber, who  find  it  difficult  or  impossible  to  acquiesce 
in  this  unconsidered  division  of  the  '  Whole '  of 
knowledge  into  two  or  more  unconnected  frag- 
ments. Naturalism  may  be  practically  unsatisfac- 
tory. But  at  least  the  positive  teaching  of  Natural- 
ism has  secured  general  assent ;  and  it  shocks  their 
philosophic  instinct  for  unity  to  be  asked  to  patch 
and  plaster  this  accepted  creed  with  a  number  of 
heterogeneous  propositions  drawn  from  an  entirely 
different  source,  and  on  behalf  of  which  no  such 
common  agreement  can  be  claimed. 

What  such  persons  ask  for,  and  rightly,  is  a 
philosophy,  a  scheme  of  knowledge,  which  shall 
give  rational  unity  to  an  adequate  creed.  But,  as 
the  reader  knows,  I  have  it  not  to  give  ;  nor  does  it 
even  seem  to  me  that  we  have  any  right  to  flatter 
ourselves  that  wc  are  on  the  verge  of  discovering 
some  all-reconciling  thcoiy  by  which  each  inevitable 


196  CAUSES   OF   EXPERIENCE 

claim  of  our  complex  nature  may  be  harmonised 
under  the  supremacy  of  Reason.  Unity,  then,  if  it 
is  to  be  attained  at  all,  must  be  sought  for,  so  to 
speak,  at  some  lower  speculative  level.  We  must 
either  pursue  the  Rationalising  and  Naturalistic 
method  already  criticised,  and  compel  the  desired 
unification  of  belief  by  the  summary  rejection  of 
everything  which  does  not  fit  into  some  convenient 
niche  in  the  scheme  of  things  developed  by  em- 
pirical methods  out  of  sense-perception ;  or  if,  either 
for  the  reasons  given  in  the  earlier  chapters  of  these 
Notes,  or  for  others,  we  reject  this  method,  we  must 
turn  for  assistance  towards  a  new  quarter,  and  apply 
ourselves  to  the  problem  by  the  aid  of  some  more 
comprehensive,  or  at  least  more  manageable,  prin- 
ciple. 

II 

To  this  end  let  us  temporarily  divest  ourselves 
of  all  philosophic  preoccupation.  Provisionally  re- 
stricting ourselves  to  the  scientific  point  of  view, 
let  us  forbear  to  consider  beliefs  from  the  side  of 
proof,  and  let  us  survey  them  for  a  season  from  the 
side  of  origin  only,  and  in  their  relation  to  the 
causes  which  gave  them  birth.  Thus  considered 
they  are,  of  course,  mere  products  of  natural  con- 
ditions; psychological  growths  comparable  to  the 
flora  and  fauna  of  continents  or  oceans ;  objects  of 
which  we  may  say  that  they  are  useful  or  harmful, 
plentiful  or  rare,  but  not,  except  parenthetically  and 


CAUSES   OF   EXPERIENCE  I97 

with  a  certain  irrelevance,  that  they  are  true  or 
untrue. 

How,  then,  would  these  beliefs  appear  to  an  in- 
vestigator from  another  planet  who,  applying  the 
ordinary  methods  of  science,  and  in  a  spirit  of  de- 
tached curiosity,  should  survey  them  from  the  out- 
side, wnth  no  other  object  than  to  discover  the  place 
they  occupied  in  the  natural  history  of  the  earth 
and  its  inhabitants?  He  would  note,  I  suppose,  to 
begin  with,  that  the  vast  majority  of  these  beliefs 
were  the  short-lived  offspring  of  sense-perception, 
instinctive  judgments  on  observed  matter-of-fact. 
'  The  sun  is  shining,'  '  there  is  somebody  in  the  room,' 
'  I  feel  tired,'  would  be  examples  of  this  class  ;  whose 
members,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  refer  imme- 
diately only  to  the  passing  moment,  and  die  as  soon 
as  they  are  born.  If  now  our  investigator  turned  his 
attention  to  the  causes  of  these  beliefs  of  perception, 
he  would,  of  course,  discover,  in  the  first  place,  that, 
when  normal,  they  were  invariably  due  to  the  action 
of  external  objects  upon  the  organism,  and  more  par- 
ticularly upon  the  nervous  system,  of  the  percipient; 
and  in  the  second  place,  that  though  these  beliefs 
were  thus  all  due  to  a  certain  kind  of  neural  change, 
the  converse  of  the  proposition  is  by  no  means  true, 
since,  taking  the  organic  world  at  large,  it  was  by 
no  means  the  case  that  neural  changes  of  this  kind 
invariably,  or  even  usually,  issued  in  beliefs  of  per- 
ception, or,  indeed,  in  any  psychical  result  whatever. 

For  consider  how  the  case  must  present  itself  to 


198  CAUSES   OF   EXPERIENCE 

our  supposed  observer.  He  would  see  a  series  of  or- 
ganisms possessed  of  nervous  systems  ranging  from 
the  most  rudimentary  type  to  the  most  complex. 
He  would  observe  that  the  action  of  the  exterior 
world  upon  those  systems  varied,  in  like  manner, 
from  the  simple  irritation  of  the  nerve-tissue  to  the 
multitudinous  correspondences  and  adjustments  in- 
volved in  some  act  of  vision  by  man  or  one  of  the 
higher  mammals.  And  he  would  conclude,  and 
rightly,  that  between  the  upper  and  the  lower  mem- 
bers of  the  scale  there  were  differences  of  degree, 
but  not  of  kind ;  and  that  existing  gaps  might  be 
conceived  as  so  filled  in  that  each  type  might  melt 
into  the  one  immediately  below  it  by  insensible  gra- 
dations. 

If,  however,  he  endeavoured  to  draw  up  a  scale 
of  psychical  effects  whose  degrees  should  correspond 
with  this  scale  of  physiological  causes,  two  results 
would  make  themselves  apparent.  The  first  is,  that 
the  lower  part  of  the  psychical  scale  would  be  a  blank, 
because  in  the  case  of  the  simple  organisms  nervous 
changes  carried  with  them  no  mental  consequents. 
The  second  is,  that  even  when  mental  consequents 
do  appear,  they  form  no  continuous  series  like  their 
physiological  antecedents  ;  but,  on  the  contrary, 
those  at  the  top  of  the  scale  are  found  to  differ  in 
something  more  than  degree  from  those  which  appear 
lower  down.  We  do  not,  for  example,  suppose  that 
protozoa  can  properly  be  said  to  feel,  nor  that  every 
animal  which   feels  can   properly   be  said   to  form 


CAUSES   OF   EXPERIENCE  199 

judgments  or  to  possess  iniuiediate  beliefs  of  percep- 
tion. 

One  conclusion  our  observer  would,  I  suppose, 
draw  from  facts  like  these  is,  that  while  neural  sen- 
sibility to  external  influences  is  a  widespread  bene- 
fit to  organic  Nature,  the  feelings,  and  still  more 
the  beliefs,  to  which  in  certain  cases  it  gives  rise  are 
relatively  insignificant  phenomena,  useful  supple- 
ments to  the  purely  physiological  apparatus,  neces- 
sary, perhaps,  to  its  highest  developments,  but  still, 
if  operative  at  alV  rather  in  the  nature  of  final  im- 
provements to  the  machinery  than  of  parts  essential 
to  its  working. 

A  like  result  would  attend  his  study  of  the  next 
class  of  beliefs  that  might  fall  under  his  notice, 
those,  namely,  which,  though  they  do  not  relate  to 
things  or  events  within  the  field  of  perception,  like 
those  we  have  just  been  considering,  are  yet  not 
less  immediate  in  their  character.  Memories  of  the 
past  are  examples  of  this  type;  I  should  be  in- 
clined to  add,  though  I  do  not  propose  here  to 
justify  my  opinion,  certain  instinctive  and,  so  to 
speak,  automatic  expectations  about  the  future  or 
that  part  of  the  present  which  does  not  come  with- 
in the  reach  of  direct  experience.  Like  the  beliefs 
of  perception  of  which  we  have  been  speaking, 
thev  would  seem  to  be  the  psychical  side  of  neu- 
ral changes  which,  at  least  in  their  simpler  forms, 
need  be  accompanied  by  no  psychical  manifestation. 
'  See  Note  on  Chapter  V.,  page  312. 


200  CAUSES   OF   EXPERIENCE 

Physiological  co-ordination  is  sufficient  by  itself  to 
perform  services  for  the  lower  animals  similar  in 
kind  to  those  which,  in  the  case  of  man,  are  use- 
fully, or  even  necessarily,  supplemented  by  their 
beliefs  of  memory  and  of  expectation. 

These  two  classes  of  belief,  relating  respectively 
to  the  present  and  the  absent,  cover  the  whole 
ground  of  what  is  commonly  called  experience, 
and  something  more.  They  include,  therefore,  at 
least  in  rudimentary  form,  all  particulars  which,  on 
any  theory,  are  required  for  scientific  induction ; 
and,  according  to  empiricism  in  its  older  forms, 
they  supply  not  this  onl}^,  but  also  the  whole  of  the 
raw  material,  without  any  exception,  out  of  which 
reason  must  subsequently  fashion  whatever  stock 
of  additional  beliefs  it  is  needful  for  mankind  to 
entertain. 

Our  Imaginary  Observer,  however,  quite  indif- 
ferent to  mundane  theories  as  to  what  ought  to 
produce  conviction,  and  intent  only  on  discovering 
how  convictions  are  actually  produced,  would  soon 
find  out  that  there  were  other  influences  besides 
reasoning  required  to  supplement  the  relatively 
simple  physiological  and  psychological  causes 
which  originate  the  immediate  beliefs  of  perception, 
memory,  and  expectation.  These  immediate  be- 
liefs belong  to  man  as  an  individual.  They  involve 
no  commerce  between  mind  and  mind.  They  might 
equally  exist,  and  would  equally  be  necessary,  if 
each  man  stood  face  to  face  with   material   Nature 


CAUSES   OF   EXPERIENCE  20I 

in  friendless  isolation.  But  they  neither  provide, 
nor  by  any  merely  logical  extension  can  be  made  to 
provide,  the  apparatus  of  beliefs  which  we  find  act- 
ually connected  with  the  higher  scientific  social  and 
spiritual  life  of  the  race.  These  also  are,  without 
doubt,  the  product  of  antecedent  causes  —  causes 
many  in  number  and  most  diverse  in  character. 
They  presuppose,  to  begin  with,  the  beliefs  of  per- 
ception, memory,  and  expectation  in  their  element- 
ary shape ;  and  they  also  imply  the  existence  of 
an  organism  fitted  for  their  hospitable  reception 
by  ages  of  ancestral  preparation.  But  these  condi- 
tions, though  necessary,  are  clearly  not  enough  ; 
the  appropriate  environment  has  also  to  be  pro- 
vided. And  though  I  shall  not  attempt  to  analyse 
with  the  least  approach  to  completeness  the  ele- 
ments of  which  that  environment  consists,  yet  it 
contains  one  group  of  causes  so  important  in  their 
collective  operation,  and  yet  in  popular  discourse 
so  often  misrepresented,  that  a  detailed  notice  of  it 
seems  desirable. 


CHAPTER   II 

AUTHORITY   AND   REASON 


This  group  is  perhaps  best  described  by  the  term 
Authority,  a  word  which  by  a  sharp  transition 
transports  us  at  once  into  a  stormier  tract  of  specu- 
lation than  we  have  been  traversing  in  the  last  few 
pages,  though,  as  my  readers  may  be  disposed  to 
think,  for  that  reason,  perhaps,  among  others,  a 
tract  more  nearly  adjacent  to  theology  and  the 
proper  subject-matter  of  these  Notes.  However 
this  may  be,  it  is,  I  am  afraid,  the  fact  that  the  dis- 
cussion on  which  I  am  about  to  enter  must  bring  us 
face  to  face  with  one  problem,  at  least,  of  which, 
so  far  as  I  am  aware,  no  entirely  satisfactory  solu- 
tion has  yet  been  reached  ;  which  certainly  I  can- 
not pretend  to  solve;  which  can,  therefore,  for  the 
present  only  be  treated  in  a  manner  provisional, 
and  therefore  unsatisfactory.  Nor  are  these  peren- 
nial and  inherent  difficulties  the  only  obstacles  we 
have  to  contend  with.  For  the  subject  is,  unfort- 
unately, one  familiar  to  discussion,  and,  like  all 
topics  which  have  been  the  occasion  of  passionate 
debate,    it   is   one    where   party    watchwords   have 


AUTHORITY   AND    REASON  203 

exercised  their  perturbing  and  embittering  influ- 
ence. 

It  would  be,  perhaps,  an  exaggeration  to  assert 
that  the  theory  of  authority  has  been  for  three  cen- 
turies the  main  battleheld  wherecjn  have  met  the 
opposing  forces  of  new  thoughts  and  old.  But  if  so, 
it  is  only  because,  at  this  point  at  least,  victory  is 
commonly  supposed  long  ago  to  have  declared  itself 
decisively  in  favour  of  the  new.  The  very  statement 
that  the  rival  and  opponent  of  authority  is  reason  ^ 
seems  to  most  persons  equivalent  to  a  declaration 
that  the  latter  must  be  in  the  right,  and  the  former 
in  the  wrong ;  while  popular  discussion  and  specula- 
tion have  driven  deep  the  general  opinion  that  au- 
thority serves  no  other  purpose  in  the  economy  of 
Nature  than  to  supply  a  refuge  for  all  that  is  most 
bigoted  and  absurd. 

The  current  theory  by  which  these  views  are  sup- 
ported appears  to  be  something  of  this  kind.  Every- 
one has  a  '  right '  to  adopt  any  opinions  he  pleases. 
It  is  his  'duty,'  before  exercising  this  'right,'  criti- 
cally to  sift  the  reasons  by  which  such  opinions  may 
be  supported,  and  so  to  adjust  the  degree  of  his  con- 
victions that  they  shall  accurately  correspond  with 
the  evidences  adduced  in  their  favour.  Authority, 
therefore,  has  no  place  among  the  legitimate  causes 
of  belief.     If  it  appears  among  them,  it  is  as  an  in- 

'  It  is,  perhaps,  hardly  necessary  to  note  that  throuj;;^hout  this 
chapter  I  use  Reason  in  its  ordinary  and  popular,  not  in  its  tran- 
scendental, sense.  There  is  no  question  here  of  the  Logos  or  Ab- 
solute Reason. 


204  AUTHORITY   AND   REASON 

trudcr,  to  be  jealously  hunted  down  and  mercilessly 
expelled.  Reason,  and  reason  only,  can  be  safely 
permitted  to  mould  the  convictions  of  mankind.  By 
its  inward  counsels  alone  should  beings  who  boast 
that  they  are  rational  submit  to  be  controlled. 

Sentiments  like  these  are  among  the  common- 
places of  political  and  social  philosophy.  Yet,  looked 
at  scientifically,  they  seem  to  me  to  be,  not  merely 
erroneous,  but  absurd.  Suppose  for  a  moment  a  com- 
munity of  which  each  member  should  deliberately 
set  himself  to  the  task  oi  throwing  off  so  far  as  pos- 
sible all  prejudices  due  to  education  ;  where  each 
should  consider  it  his  duty  critically  to  examine  the 
grounds  whereon  rest  every  positive  enactment  and 
every  moral  precept  which  he  has  been  accustomed 
to  obey  ;  to  dissect  all  the  great  loyalties  which  make 
social  life  possible,  and  all  the  minor  conventions 
which  help  to  make  it  easy ;  and  to  weigh  out  with 
scrupulous  precision  the  exact  degree  of  assent 
which  in  each  particular  case  the  results  of  this  proc- 
ess might  seem  to  justify.  To  say  that  such  a  com- 
munity, if  it  acted  upon  the  opinions  thus  arrived 
at,  would  stand  but  a  poor  chance  in  the  struggle 
for  existence  is  to  say  far  too  little.  It  could  never 
even  begin  to  be ;  and  if  by  a  miracle  it  was  created, 
it  would  without  doubt  immediately  resolve  itself 
into  its  constituent  elements. 

For  consider  by  way  of  illustration  the  case  of 
Morality.  If  the  right  and  the  duty  of  private 
judgment  be  universal,  it  must  be  both  the  privilege 


AUTHORITY   AND    REASON  20$ 

and  the  business  of  every  man  to  subject  the  maxims 
of  cuiTent  morality  to  a  critical  examination ;  and 
unless  the  examination  is  to  be  a  farce,  every  man 
should  bring  to  it  a  mind  as  little  warped  as  pos- 
sible by  habit  and  education,  or  the  unconscious  bias 
of  foregone  conclusions.  Picture,  then,  the  condi- 
tion of  a  society  in  which  the  successive  generations 
would  thus  in  turn  devote  their  energies  to  an  im- 
partial criticism  of  the  '  traditional '  view.  What 
qualihcations,  natural  or  acquired,  for  such  a  task 
we  are  to  attribute  to  the  members  of  this  emanci- 
pated community  I  know  not.  But  let  us  put  them 
at  the  highest.  Let  us  suppose  that  every  man  and 
woman,  or  rather  every  boy  and  girl  (for  ought 
Reason  to  be  ousted  from  her  rights  in  persons 
under  twenty-one  years  of  age?),  is  endowed  with 
the  aptitude  and  training  required  to  deal  with 
problems  like  these.  Arm  them  with  the  most  re- 
cent methods  of  criticism,  and  set  them  down  to  the 
task  of  estimating  with  open  minds  the  claims  which 
charity,  temperance  and  honesty,  murder,  theft  and 
adultery  respectively  have  upon  the  approval  or 
disapproval  of  mankind.  What  the  result  of  such 
an  experiment  would  be,  what  wild  chaos  of  opin- 
ions would  result  from  this  fiat  of  the  Uncreating 
Word,  1  kncnv  not.  But  it  might  well  happen  that 
even  before  our  youthful  critics  got  so  far  as  a  re- 
arrangement of  the  Ten  Commandments,  they  might 
find  themselves  entangled  in  the  preliminary  ques- 
tion whether  judgments  conve^ang  moral  approba- 


200  AUTHORITY   AND    REASON 

tion  and  disapprobation  were  of  a  kind  which  rea- 
sonable beings  should  be  asked  to  entertain  at  all ; 
whether  '  right '  and  *  wrong '  were  words  repre- 
senting anything  more  permanent  and  important 
than  certain  likes  and  dislikes  which  happen  to  be 
rather  widely  disseminated,  and  more  or  less  arbi- 
trarily associated  with  social  and  legal  sanctions.  I 
conceive  it  to  be  highly  probable  that  the  con- 
clusions at  which  on  this  point  they  would  arrive 
would  be  of  a  purely  negative  character.  The  ethi- 
cal systems  competing  for  acceptance  would  by 
their  very  numbers  and  variety  suggest  suspicions 
as  to  their  character  and  origin.  Here,  would  our 
students  explain,  is  a  clear  presumption  to  be  found 
on  the  very  face  of  these  moralisings  that  they  were 
contrived,  not  in  the  interests  of  truth,  but  in  the  in- 
terests of  traditional  dogma.  How  else  explain  the 
fact,  that  while  there  is  no  great  difference  of  opin- 
ion as  to  what  things  are  right  or  wrong,  there  is  no 
semblance  of  agreement  as  to  why  they  are  right 
or  why  they  are  wrong.  All  authorities  concur,  for 
instance,  in  holding  that  it  is  wrong  to  commit  mur- 
der. But  one  philosopher  tells  us  that  it  is  wrong 
because  it  is  inconsistent  with  the  happiness  of  man- 
kind, and  that  to  do  anything  inconsistent  with  the 
happiness  of  mankind  is  wrong.  Another  tells  us 
that  it  is  contrary  to  the  dictates  of  conscience,  and 
that  everything  which  is  contrary  to  the  dictates  of 
conscience  is  wrong.  A  third  tells  us  that  it  is 
against  the  commandments  of  God,  and  that  every- 


AUTHORITY   AND   REASON  20/ 

thing  which  is  against  the  commandments  of  God  is 
wronsT,  A  fourth  tells  me  that  it  leads  to  the  gal- 
lows,  and  that,  inasmuch  as  being  hanged  involves 
a  sensible  diminution  of  personal  happiness,  creat- 
ures who,  like  man,  are  by  nature  incapable  of 
doing  otherwise  than  seek  to  increase  the  sum  of 
their  personal  pleasures  and  diminish  the  sum  of 
their  personal  pains  cannot,  if  they  really  compre- 
hend the  situation,  do  anything  which  may  bring 
their  existence  to  so  distressing  a  termination. 

Now  whence,  it  would  be  asked,  this  curious  mixt- 
ure of  agreement  and  disagreement  ?  How  account 
for  the  strange  variety  exhibited  in  the  premises  of 
these  various  systems,  and  the  not  less  strange  uni- 
formity exhibited  in  their  conclusions?  Why  does 
not  as  great  a  divergence  manifest  itself  in  the 
results  arrived  at  as  we  undoubtedly  find  in  the 
methods  employed  ?  How  comes  it  that  all  these 
explorers  reach  the  same  goal,  when  their  points  of 
departure  are  so  widely  dispersed  ?  Plainly  but  one 
plausible  method  of  solving  the  difificulty  exists. 
The  conclusions  were  in  every  case  determined  be- 
fore the  argument  began,  the  goal  was  in  every  case 
settled  before  the  travellers  set  out.  There  is  here 
no  surrender  of  belief  to  the  inward  guidance  of  un- 
fettered reason.  Rather  is  reason  coerced  to  a  fore- 
ordained issue  by  the  external  operation  of  prejudice 
and  education,  or  by  the  rougher  machinery  of  social 
ostracism  and  legal  penalty.  The  framcrs  of  ethical 
systems  are  cither  phil(xsoi)hers  who  are  unable  to 


2o8  AUTHORITY   AND   REASON 

free  themselves  from  the  unfelt  bondage  of  custom- 
ary opinion,  or  advocates  who  find  it  safer  to  exer- 
cise their  liberty  of  speculation  in  respect  to  pre- 
mises about  which  nobody  cares,  than  in  respect  to 
conclusions  which  might  bring  them  into  conflict 
with  the  police. 

So  might  we  imagine  the  members  of  our  emanci- 
pated community  discussing  the  principles  on  which 
morality  is  founded.  But,  in  truth,  it  were  a  vain 
task  to  try  and  work  out  in  further  detail  the  results 
of  an  experiment  which,  human  nature  being  what 
it  is,  can  never  be  seriously  attempted.  That  it  can 
never  be  seriously  attempted  is  not,  be  it  observed, 
because  it  is  of  so  dangerous  a  character  that  the 
community  in  its  wisdom  would  refuse  to  embark 
upon  it.  This  would  be  a  frail  protection  indeed. 
Not  the  danger  of  the  adventure,  but  its  impossi- 
bility, is  our  security.  To  reject  all  convictions 
which  are  not  the  products  of  free  speculative  in- 
vestigation is,  fortunately,  an  exercise  of  which  hu- 
manity is  in  the  strictest  sense  incapable.  Some 
societies  and  some  individuals  may  show  more  incli- 
nation to  indulge  in  it  than  others.  But  in  no  con- 
dition of  society  and  in  no  individual  will  the  incli- 
nation be  more  than  very  partially  satisfied.  Always 
and  everywhere  our  Imaginary  Observer,  contem- 
plating from  some  external  coign  of  vantage  the 
course  of  human  history,  would  note  the  immense, 
the  inevitable,  and  on  the  whole  the  beneficent,  part 
which  Authority  plays  in  the  production  of  belief. 


AUTHORITY  AND   REASON  209 


II 


This  truth  finds  expression,  and  at  first  sight  we 
might  feel  inclined  to  say  recognition  also,  in  such 
familiar  commonplaces  as  that  every  man  is  the 
*  product  of  the  society  in  which  he  lives,'  and  that 
'  it  is  vain  to  expect  him  to  rise  much  above  the  level 
of  his  age.'  But  aphorisms  like  these,  however  use- 
ful as  aids  to  a  correct  historical  perspective,  do  not, 
as  ordinarily  employed,  show  any  real  apprehension 
of  the  verity  on  which  I  desire  to  insist.  They  be- 
long to  a  theory  which  regards  these  social  influ- 
ences as  clogs  and  hindrances,  hampering  the  free 
movements  of  those  who  might  under  happier  cir- 
cumstances have  struggled  successfully  towards  the 
truth  ;  or  as  perturbing  forces  which  drive  mankind 
from  the  even  orbit  marked  out  for  it  by  reason. 
Reason,  according  to  this  view,  is  a  kind  of  Ormuzd 
doing  constant  battle  against  the  Ahriman  of  tradi- 
tion and  authority.  Its  gradual  triumph  over  the 
opposing  powers  of  darkness  is  what  we  mean  by 
Progress.  Everything  which  shall  hasten  the  hour 
of  that  triumph  is  a  gain  ;  and  if  by  some  magic 
stroke  we  could  extirpate,  as  it  were  in  a  moment, 
every  cause  of  belief  which  was  not  also  a  reason, 
we  should,  it  appears,  be  the  fortunate  authors  of  a 
reform  in  the  moral  world  only  to  be  paralleled  by 
the  abolition  of  pain  and  disease  in  the  physical.  I 
have  already  indicated  some  of  the  grounds  which 


2IO  AUTHORITY    AND    REASON 

induce  me  to  form  a  very  different  estimate  of  the 
part  which  reason  plays  in  human  affairs.  Our  an- 
cestors, whose  errors  we  paUiate  on  account  of  their 
environment  with  a  feeling  of  satisfaction,  due  partly 
to  our  keen  appreciation  of  our  own  happier  position 
and  greater  breadth  of  view,  were  not  to  be  pitied 
because  they  reasoned  little  and  believed  much  ;  nor 
should  we  necessarily  have  any  particular  cause  for 
self-gratulation  if  it  were  true  that  we  reasoned 
more  and,  it  may  be,  believed  less.  Not  thus  has 
the  world  been  fashioned.  But,  nevertheless,  this 
identification  of  reason  with  all  that  is  good  among 
the  causes  of  belief,  and  authority  with  all  that  is 
bad,  is  a  delusion  so  gross  and  yet  so  prevalent  that 
a  moment's  examination  into  the  exaggerations  and 
confusions  which  lie  at  the  root  of  it  may  not  be 
thrown  away. 

The  first  of  these  confusions  may  be  dismissed 
almost  in  a  sentence.  It  arises  out  of  the  tacit  as- 
sumption that  reason  means  rigJit  reason.  Such  an 
assumption,  it  need  hardly  be  said,  begs  half  the 
point  at  issue.  Reason,  for  purposes  of  this  discus- 
sion, can  no  more  be  made  to  mean  right  reason  than 
authority  can  be  made  to  mean  legitimate  authority. 
True,  we  might  accept  the  first  of  these  definitions, 
and  yet  deny  that  all  right  belief  was  the  fruit  of 
reason.  But  we  could  hardly  deny  the  converse 
proposition,  that  reason  thus  defined  must  always 
issue  in  rig-ht  belief.  Nor  need  we  be  concerned  to 
deny  a  statement  at  once  so  obvious  and  so  barren. 


AUTHORITY   AND   REASON  211 

The  source  of  error  which  has  next  to  be  noted 
presents  points  of  much  greater  interest.  Though  it 
be  true,  as  I  am  contending,  that  the  importance  of 
reason  among  the  causes  which  produce  and  main- 
tain the  beUefs,  customs,  and  ideals  which  form  the 
groundwork  of  life  has  been  much  exaggerated, 
there  can  yet  be  no  doubt  that  reason  is,  or  appears 
to  be,  the  cause  over  which  we  have  the  most  direct 
control,  or  rather  the  one  which  we  most  readily 
identify  with  our  own  free  and  personal  action.  We 
are  acted  on  by  authority.  It  moulds  our  ways  of 
thought  in  spite  of  ourselves,  and  usually  unknown 
to  ourselves.  But  when  we  reason  we  are  the  au- 
thors of  the  effect  produced.  We  have  ourselves 
set  the  machine  in  motion.  For  its  proper  working 
we  are  ourselves  immediately  responsible;  so  that  it 
is  both  natural  and  desirable  that  we  should  concen- 
trate our  attention  on  this  particular  class  of  causes, 
even  though  we  should  thus  be  led  unduly  to 
magnify  their  importance  in  the  general  scheme  of 
things. 

I  have  somewhere  seen  it  stated  that  the  steam- 
engine  in  its  primitive  form  required  a  boy  to  work 
the  valve  by  which  steam  was  admitted  to  the 
cylinder.  It  was  his  business  at  the  proper  period 
of  each  sti'oke  to  perform  this  necessary  operation 
by  pulling  a  string ;  and  though  the  same  object 
has  long  since  been  attained  by  mechanical  methods 
far  sim])ler  and  more  trustworthy,  yet  I  have  little 
d(;ubt  that  until    the    advent  (A  that    revolutionary 


212  AUTHORITY   AND    REASON 

youth  who  so  tied  the  string  to  one  of  the  moving 
parts  of  the  engine  that  his  personal  supervision  was 
no  longer  necessary,  the  boy  in  office  greatly  magni- 
fied his  functions,  and  regarded  himself  with  par- 
donable pride  as  the  most  important,  because  the 
only  rational,  link  in  the  chain  of  causes  and  effects 
by  which  the  energy  developed  in  the  furnace  was 
ultimately  converted  into  the  motion  of  the  fly- 
wheel. So  do  we  stand  as  reasoning  beings  in  the 
presence  of  the  complex  processes,  physiological 
and  psychical,  out  of  which  are  manufactured  the 
convictions  necessary  to  the  conduct  of  life.  To  the 
results  attained  by  their  co-operation  reason  makes 
its  slender  contribution  ;  but  in  order  that  it  may  do 
so  effectively,  it  is  beneficently  decreed  that,  pend- 
ing the  evolution  of  some  better  device,  reason 
should  appear  to  the  reasoner  the  most  admirable 
and  important  contrivance  in  the  whole  mechanism. 
The  manner  in  which  attention  and  interest  are 
thus  unduly  directed  towards  the  operations,  vital 
and  social,  which  are  under  our  direct  control, 
rather  than  those  which  we  are  unable  to  modify,  or 
can  only  modify  by  a  very  indirect  and  circuitous 
procedure,  may  be  illustrated  by  countless  exam- 
ples. Take  one  from  physiology.  Of  all  the  com- 
plex causes  which  co-operate  for  the  healthy  nour- 
ishment of  the  body,  no  doubt  the  conscious  choice 
of  the  most  wholesome  rather  than  the  less  whole- 
some forms  of  ordinary  food  is  far  from  being  the 
most  unimportant.     Yet,  as  it  is  within  our  immedi- 


AUTHORirY   AND    REASON  213 

ate  competence,  we  attend  to  it,  moralise  about  it; 
and  generally  make  much  of  it.  But  no  man  can  by 
taking  thought  directly  regulate  his  digestive  secre- 
tions. We  never,  therefore,  think  of  them  at  all 
until  they  go  wrong,  and  then,  unfortunately,  to 
very  little  purpose.  So  it  is  with  the  body  politic. 
A  certain  proportion  (probably  a  small  one)  of  the 
changes  and  adaptations  required  by  altered  sur- 
roundings can  only  be  effected  through  the  solvent 
action  of  criticism  and  discussion.  How  such  dis- 
cussion shall  be  conducted,  what  are  the  arguments 
on  either  side,  how  a  decision  shall  be  arrived  at, 
and  how  it  shall  be  carried  out,  are  matters  which 
we  seem  able  to  regulate  by  conscious  effort  and  the 
deliberate  adaptation  of  means  to  ends.  We  there- 
fore unduly  magnify  the  part  they  play  in  the  fur- 
therance of  our  interests.  We  perceive  that  they 
supply  business  to  the  practical  politician,  raw  ma- 
terial to  the  political  theorist ;  and  we  forget  amid 
the  buzzing  of  debate  the  multitude  of  incom- 
parably more  important  processes,  by  whose  unde- 
signed co-operation  alone  the  life  and  growth  of  the 
State  is  rendered  possible. 


Ill 

There  is,  however,  a  third  source  of  illusion, 
which  well  deserves  the  attentive  study  of  those 
who,  like  our  Imaginary  Observer,  are  interested  in 
the  purely    external  and   scientific   investigation   of 


214  AUTHORITY   AND   REASON 

the  causes  which  produce  belief.  I  have  already  in 
this  chapter  made  reference  to  the  '  spirit  of  the 
age '  as  one  form  in  which  authority  most  potently 
manifests  itself ;  and  undoubtedly  it  is  so.  Dog- 
matic education  in  early  years  may  do  much.*  The 
immediate  pressure  of  domestic,  social,  scientific, 
ecclesiastical  surroundings  in  the  direction  of  spe- 
cific beliefs  may  do  even  more.  But  the  power  of 
authority  is  never  more  subtle  and  effective  than 
when  it  produces  a  psychological  '  atmosphere '  or 
'climate'  favourable  to  the  life  of  certain  modes  of 
belief,  unfavourable,  and  even  fatal,  to  the  life  of 
others.  Such  'climates  '  may  be  widely  diffused,  or 
the  reverse.  Their  range  may  cover  a  generation, 
an  epoch,  a  whole  civilisation,  or  it  may  be  nar- 
rowed down  to  a  sect,  a  family,  even  an  individual. 
And  as  they  may  vary  infinitely  in  respect  to  the 
extent  of  their  influence,  so  also  they  may  vary  in 
respect  to  its  intensity  and  quality.  But  whatever 
be  their  limits  and  whatever  their  character,  their 
importance  to  the  conduct  of  life,  social  and  individ- 
ual, cannot  easily  be  overstated. 

Consider,  for  instance,  their  effect  on  great 
classes  of  belief  with  which  reasoning,  were  it  only 
on  account  of  their  mass,  is  quite  incompetent  to 
deal.  If  all  credible  propositions,  all  propositions 
which  somebody  at  some  time  had  been  able  to  be- 
lieve, were  only  to  be  rejected  after  their  claims  had 

'  I  may  again  remind  thie  reader  that  the  word  dogmatic  as  used 
in  these  Notes  has  no  special  theological  reference. 


AUTHORITY   AND   REASON  21  5 

been  impartially  tested  by  a  strictly  logical  inves- 
tigation, the  intellectual  machine  would  be  over- 
burdened, and  its  movements  hopelessly  choked  by 
mere  excess  of  material.  Even  such  products  as  it 
could  turn  out  would,  as  I  conjecture  (for  the  ex- 
periment has  never  been  tried),  prove  but  a  mot- 
ley collection,  so  diverse  in  design,  so  incongruous 
and  ill-assorted,  that  they  could  scarcely  contribute 
the  fitting  furniture  of  a  well-ordered  mind.  What 
actually  happens  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases  is 
something  very  different.  To  begin  with,  external 
circumstances,  mere  conditions  of  time  and  place, 
limit  the  number  ot  opinions  about  which  anything 
is  known,  and  on  which,  therefore,  it  is  (so  to  speak) 
materially  possible  that  reason  can  be  called  upon 
to  pronounce  a  judgment.  But  there  are  internal 
limitations  not  less  universal  and  not  less  necessary. 
Few  indeed  are  the  beliefs,  even  among  those  which 
come  under  his  observation,  which  any  individual 
for  a  moment  thinks  himself  called  upon  seriously 
to  consider  with  a  view  to  their  possible  adoption. 
The  residue  he  summarily  disposes  of,  rejects  with- 
out a  hearing,  or,  rather,  treats  as  if  they  had  not 
even  that  prima  facie  claim  to  be  adjudicated  on 
which  formal  rejection  seems  to  imply. 

Now,  can  this  process  be  described  as  a  rational 
one  ?  That  it  is  not  the  immediate  result  of  rcason- 
in(r  is,  1  think,  evident  enoua:h.  All  would  admit, 
for  example,  that  when  the  mind  is  closed  against 
the  reception  of  any  truth  by  '  bigotry  '  or  '  inveterate 


2l6  AUTHORITY   AND    REASON 

prejudice,'  the  effectual  cause  of  the  victory  of  error 
is  not  so  much  bad  reasoning  as  something  which, 
in  its  essential  nature,  is  not  reasoning  at  all.  But 
there  is  really  no  ground  for  drawing  a  distinction 
as  regards  their  mode  of  operation  between  the 
'  psychological  climates  '  which  we  happen  to  like  and 
those  of  which  we  happen  to  disapprove.  However 
various  their  character,  all,  I  take  it,  work  out  their 
results  very  much  in  the  same  kind  of  way.  For 
good  or  for  evil,  in  ancient  times  and  in  modern, 
among  savage  folk  and  among  civilised,  it  is  ever  by 
an  identic  process  that  they  have  sifted  and  selected 
the  candidates  for  credence,  on  which  reason  has 
been  afterwards  called  upon  to  pass  judgment ;  and 
that  process  is  one  with  which  ratiocination  has  little 
or  nothing  directly  to  do. 

But  though  these  '  psychological  climates  '  do  not 
work  through  reasoning,  may  they  not  themselves, 
in  many  cases,  be  the  products  of  reasoning?  May 
they  not,  therefore,  be  causes  of  belief  which  belong, 
though  it  be  only  at  the  second  remove,  to  the  domain 
of  reason  rather  than  that  of  authority  ?  To  the  first 
of  these  questions  the  answer  must  doubtless  be  in 
the  affirmative.  Reasoning  has  unquestionably  a 
great  deal  to  do  with  the  production  of  psychological 
climates.  As  '  climates  '  are  among  the  causes  which 
produce  beliefs,  so  are  beliefs  among  the  causes 
which  produce '  climates,*  and  all  reasoning,  therefore, 
which  culminates  in  belief  may  be,  and  indeed  must 
be,  at  least  indirectl}^  concerned  in  the  effects  which 


AUTHORITY   AND   REASON  21/ 

belief  develops.  But  are  these  results  rational  ?  Do 
they  follow,  I  mean,  on  reason  qua  reason  ;  or  are 
they,  like  a  schoolboy's  tears  over  a  proposition  of 
Euclid,  consequences  of  reasoning,  but  not  conclu- 
sions from  it  ? 

In  order  to  answer  this  question  it  may  be  worth 
while  to  consider  it  in  the  light  of  an  example  which 
I  have  already  used  in  another  connection  and  under 
a  different  aspect.  It  will  be  recollected  that  in  a 
preceding  chapter  I  considered  Rationalism,  not  as 
a  psychological  climate,  a  well-characterised  mood  of 
mind,  but  as  an  explicit  principle  of  judgment,  in 
which  the  rationalising  temper  may  for  purposes  of 
argument  fmd  definite  expression.  To  Rationalism 
in  the  first  of  these  senses — to  Rationalism,  in  other 
words,  considered  as  a  form  of  Authority — I  now 
revert ;  taking  it  as  an  instance  specially  suited  to 
our  purpose,  not  only  because  its  meaning  is  well 
understood,  but  because  it  is  found  at  our  own  level 
of  intellectual  development,  and  we  can  therefore 
study  its  origin  and  character  with  a  kind  of  insight 
quite  impossible  when  we  are  dealing  with  the 
'  climates  '  which  govern  in  so  singular  a  fashion  the 
beliefs  of  primitive  races.  These,  too,  may  be,  and  .1 
suppose  are,  to  some  extent,  the  products  of  reason- 
ing. But  the  reasoning  appears  to  us  as  arbitrary 
as  the  resulting  'climates'  are  repugnant;  and 
though  we  can  note  and  classify  the  facts,  we  can 
hardly  comprehend  them  with  sympathetic  under- 
standincr. 


2l8  AUTHORITY   AND   REASON 

With  Rationalism  it  is  different.  How  the  dis- 
coveries of  science,  the  growth  of  criticism,  and  the 
diffusion  of  learning  should  have  fostered  the  ration- 
alising temper  seems  intelligible  to  all,  because  all, 
in  their  different  degrees,  have  been  subject  to  these 
very  influences.  Not  everyone  is  a  rationalist ;  but 
everyone,  educated  or  uneducated,  is  prepared  to 
reject  without  further  examination  certain  kinds  of 
statement  which,  before  the  rationalising  era  set  in, 
would  have  been  accepted  without  difficulty  by  the 
wisest  among  mankind. 

Now  this  modern  mood,  whether  in  its  qualified 
or  unqualified  {i.e.  naturalistic)  form,  is  plainly  no 
mere  product  of  non-rational  conditions,  as  the  enu- 
meration I  have  just  given  of  its  most  conspicuous 
causes  is  sufficient  to  prove.  Natural  science  and 
historical  criticism  have  not  been  built  up  without  a 
vast  expenditure  of  reasoning,  and  (though  for  present 
purposes  this  is  immaterial)  very  good  reasoning, 
too.  But  are  we  on  that  account  to  say  that  the 
results  of  the  rationalising  temper  are  the  work  of 
reason?  Surely  not.  The  rationalist  rejects  miracles; 
and  if  3'ou  force  him  to  a  discussion,  he  may  no  doubt 
produce  from  the  ample  stores  of  past  controversy 
plenty  of  argument  in  support  of  his  belief.  But  do 
not  therefore  assume  that  his  belief  is  the  result  of 
his  argument.  The  odds  are  strongly  in  favour  of 
argument  and  belief  having  both  grown  up  und^^r 
the  fostering  influence  of  his  '  psychological  climate.' 
For  observe  that  precisely  in  the  way  in  which  he 


AUTHORITY   AND    REASON  219 

rejects  miracles  he  also  rejects  witchcraft.  Here 
there  has  been  no  controversy  worth  mentioning-. 
The  general  belief  in  witchcraft  has  died  a  natural 
death,  and  it  has  not  been  worth  anybody's  while  to 
devise  arguments  against  it.  Perhaps  there  are  none. 
But,  whether  there  be  or  not,  no  logical  axe  was  re- 
quired to  cut  down  a  plant  which  had  not  the  least 
chance  of  flourishing  in  a  mental  atmosphere  so  rig- 
orous and  uncongenial  as  that  of  rationalism  ;  and 
accordingly  no  logical  axe  has  been  provided. 

The  belief  in  mesmerism,  however,  supplies  in 
some  ways  a  more  instructive  case  than  the  belief 
either  in  miracles  or  witchcraft.  Like  these,  it 
found  in  rationalism  a  hostile  influence.  But,  unlike 
these,  it  could  call  in  almost  at  will  the  assistance 
of  what  would  now  be  regarded  as  ocular  demon- 
stration. For  two  generations,  however,  this  was 
found  insufficient.  For  two  generations  the  rational- 
istic bias  proved  sufficiently  strong  to  pervert  the 
judgment  of  the  most  distinguished  observers,  and 
to  incapacitate  them  from  accepting  what  under 
more  favourable  circumstances  they  would  have 
called  the  *  plain  evidence  of  their  senses.'  So  that 
we  are  here  presented  with  the  curious  spectacle  of 
an  intellectual  mood  or  temper,  whose  origin  was 
largely  due  to  the  growth  of  the  experimental 
sciences,  making  it  impossible  for  those  affected  to 
draw  the  simplest  inference,  even  from  the  most 
conclusive  experiments. 

This  is  an  interesting-  case  of   the   conflict    be- 


220  AUTHORITY   AND   REASON 

t.ween  authority  and  reason,  because  it  illustrates 
the  general  truth  for  which  I  have  been  contending, 
with  an  emphasis  that  would  be  impossible  if  we 
took  as  our  example  some  worn-out  vesture  of 
thought,  threadbare  from  use,  and  strange  to  eyes 
accustomed  to  newer  fashions.  Rationalism,  in  its 
turn,  may  be  predestined  to  suffer  a  like  decay ; 
but  in  the  meanwhile  it  forcibly  exemplifies  the 
part  played  by  authority  in  the  formation  of  beliefs. 
If  rationalism  be  regarded  as  a  non-rational  effect  of 
reason  and  a  non-rational  cause  of  belief,  the  same 
admission  will  readily  be  made  about  all  other  in- 
tellectual climates;  and  that  rationalism  should  be 
so  regarded  is  now,  I  trust,  plain  to  the  reader. 
The  only  results  which  reason  can  claim  as  hers 
by  an  exclusive  title  are  of  the  nature  of  logical 
conclusions  ;  and  rationalism  is  not  a  logical  conclu- 
sion, but  an  intellectual  temper.  The  only  instru- 
ments which  reason,  as  such,  can  employ  are  argu- 
ments ;  and  rationalism  is  not  an  argument,  but  an 
impulse  towards  belief,  or  disbelief.  So  that, 
though  rationalism,  like  other  '  psychological  cli- 
mates,' is  doubtless  due,  among  other  causes,  to 
reason,  it  is  not  on  that  account  a  rational  product ; 
and  though  in  its  turn  it  produces  beliefs,  it  is  not 
on  that  account  a  rational  cause. 


AUTHORITY   AND    REASON  221 


IV 


The  most  important  source  of  error  on  this  sub- 
ject remains,  however,  to  be  dealt  with ;  and  it 
arises  directly  out  of  that  jui"isdiction  which  in 
matters  of  belief  we  can  hardly  do  otherwise  than 
recognise  as  belonging  to  Reason  by  a  natural  and 
indefeasible  title.  No  one  finds  (if  my  observations 
in  this  matter  are  correct)  any  serious  difficulty  in 
attributing  the  origin  of  other  people's  beliefs,  es- 
pecially if  he  disagree  with  them,  to  causes  which 
are  not  reasons.  That  interior  assent  should  be 
produced  in  countless  cases  by  custom,  education, 
public  opinion,  the  contagious  convictions  of  coun- 
trymen, family,  party,  or  Church,  seems  natural, 
and  even  obvious.  That  but  a  small  number,  at 
least  of  the  most  important  and  fundamental  beliefs, 
are  held  by  persons  who  could  give  reasons  for 
them,  and  that  of  this  small  number  only  an  in- 
considerable fraction  are  held  in  consequence  of  the 
reasons  by  which  they  are  nominally  supported, 
may  perhaps  be  admitted  with  no  very  great  diffi- 
culty. But  it  is  harder  to  recognise  that  this  law 
is  not  merely,  on  the  whole,  beneficial,  but  that  with- 
out it  the  business  of  the  world  could  not  possibly 
be  carried  on ;  nor  do  we  allow,  without  reluctance 
and  a  sense  of  shortcoming,  that  in  our  own  persons 
we  supply  illustrations  of  its  operation  quite  as  strik- 
ing as  any  presented  to  us  by  the  rest  of  the  world. 


222  AUTHORITY   AND   REASON 

Now  this  reluctance  is  not  the  result  of  vanity, 
nor  of  any  fancied  immunity  from  weaknesses  com- 
mon to  the  rest  of  mankind.  It  is,  rather,  a  direct 
consequence  of  the  view  we  find  ourselves  com- 
pelled to  take  of  the  essential  character  of  reason 
and  of  our  relations  to  it.  Looked  at  from  the  out- 
side, as  one  among  the  complex  conditions  which 
produce  belief,  reason  appears  relatively  insignifi- 
cant and  ineffectual ;  not  only  appears  so,  but  must 
be  so,  if  human  society  is  to  be  made  possible. 
Looked  at  from  the  inside,  it  claims  by  an  inalien- 
able title  to  be  supreme.  Measured  by  its  results 
it  may  be  little  ;  measured  by  its  rights  it  is  every- 
thing. There  is  no  problem  it  may  not  investigate, 
no  belief  which  it  may  not  assail,  no  principle  which 
it  may  not  test.  It  cannot,  even  by  its  own  volun- 
tary act,  deprive  itself  of  universal  jurisdiction,  as, 
according  to  a  once  fashionable  theory,  primitive 
man,  on  entering  the  social  state,  contracted  himself 
out  of  his  natural  rights  and  liberties.  On  the  con- 
trary, though  its  claims  may  be  ignored,  they  can- 
not be  repudiated  ;  and  even  those  who  shrink  from 
the  criticism  of  dogma  as  a  sin,  would  probably  ad- 
mit that  they  do  so  because  it  is  an  act  forbidden 
by  those  they  are  bound  to  obey  ;  do  so,  that  is  to 
say,  nominally  at  least,  for  a  reason  which,  at  any 
moment,  if  it  should  think  fit,  reason  itself  may  re- 
verse. 

Why,  under  these  circumstances,  we  are  moved 
to  regard  ourselves  as  free  intelligences,  forming 


AUTHORITY   AND   REASON  22$ 

our  opinions  solely  in  obedience  to  reason  ;  why  we 
come  to  regard  reason  itself,  not  only  as  the  sole 
legitimate  source  of  belief — which,  perhaps,  it  may 
be — but  the  sole  source  of  legitimate  beliefs — which 
it  assuredly  is  not,  must  now,  I  hope,  be  tolerably 
obvious,  and  needs  not  to  be  further  emphasised. 
It  is  more  instructive  for  our  present  purpose  to 
consider  for  a  moment  certain  consequences  of  this 
antinomy  between  the  equities  of  Reason  and  the 
expediencies  of  Authority  which  rise  into  promi- 
nence whenever,  under  the  changing  conditions  of 
society,  the  forces  of  the  latter  are  being  diverted 
into  new  and  unaccustomed  channels. 

It  is  true,  no  doubt,  that  the  full  extent  and  diffi- 
culty of  the  problems  involved  have  not  commonly 
been  realised  by  the  advocates  either  of  authority 
or  reason,  though  each  has  usually  had  a  sufficient 
sense  of  the  strength  of  the  other's  position  to  in- 
duce him  to  borrow  from  it,  even  at  the  cost  of 
some  little  inconsistency.  The  supporter  of  author- 
ity, for  instance,  may  point  out  some  of  the  more 
obvious  evils  by  which  any  decrease  in  its  influence 
is  usually  accompanied  :  the  comminution  of  sects, 
the  divisions  of  opinion,  the  weakened  powers  of  co- 
operation, the  increase  of  strife,  the  waste  of  power. 
Yet,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  no  nation,  party,  or 
Church  has  ever  courted  controversial  disaster  by 
admitting  that,  if  its  claims  were  impartially  tried 
at  the  bar  of  Reason,  the  verdict  would  go  against 
it.     In  the  same  way,  those  who  have  most  clamor- 


224  AUTHORITY   AND    REASON 

ously  upheld  the  prerogatives  of  individual  reason 
have  always  been  forced  to  recognise  by  their  prac- 
tice, if  not  by  their  theory,  that  the  right  of  every 
man  to  judge  on  every  question  for  himself  is  like 
the  right  of  every  man  who  possesses  a  balance  at 
his  bankers  to  require  its  immediate  payment  in 
sovereigns.  The  right  may  be  undoubted  ;  but  it 
can  only  be  safely  enjoyed  on  condition  that  too 
many  persons  do  not  take  it  into  their  heads  to  ex- 
ercise it  together.  Perhaps,  however,  the  most 
striking  evidence,  both  of  the  powers  of  authority 
and  the  rights  of  reason,  may  be  found  in  the  fact 
already  alluded  to,  that  beliefs  which  are  really  the 
offspring  of  the  first,  when  challenged,  invariably 
claim  to  trace  their  descent  from  the  second,  al- 
though this  improvised  pedigree  may  be  as  imagi- 
nary as  if  it  were  the  work  of  a  college  of  heralds. 
To  be  sure,  when  this  contrivance  has  served  its 
purpose  it  is  usually  laid  silently  aside,  while  the 
belief  it  was  intended  to  support  remains  quietly  in 
possession,  until,  in  the  course  of  time,  some  other, 
and  perhaps  not  less  illusory,  title  has  to  be  devised 
to  meet  the  pleas  of  a  new  claimant. 

If  the  reader  desires  an  illustration  of  this  pro- 
cedure, here  is  one  taken  at  random  from  English 
political  history.  Among  the  results  of  the  move- 
ment which  culminated  in  the  Great  Rebellion  was 
of  necessity  a  marked  diminution  in  the  universal- 
ity and  efficacy  of  that  mixture  of  feelings  and  be- 
liefs which,  constitute   loyalty    to  national   govern- 


AUTHORITY   AND   REASON  22$ 

ment.  Now  loyalty,  in  some  shape  or  other,  is 
necessary  for  the  stability  of  any  form  of  polity.  It 
is  one  of  the  most  valuable  products  of  authority, 
and,  whether  in  any  particular  case  conformable  to 
reason  or  not,  is  essentially  unreasoning.  Its  theo- 
retical basis  therefore  excites  but  little  interest,  and 
is  of  very  subordinate  importance  so  long  as  it  con- 
trols the  hearts  of  men  with  undisputed  sway.  But 
as  soon  as  its  supremacy  is  challenged,  men  begin 
to  cast  about  anxiously  for  reasons  why  it  should 
continue  to  be  obeyed. 

Thus,  to  those  who  lived  through  the  troubles 
which  preceded  and  accompanied  the  Great  Rebel- 
lion, it  became  suddenly  apparent  that  it  was  above 
all  things  necessary  to  bolster  up  by  argument  the 
creed  which  authority  had  been  found  temporarily 
insufficient  to  sustain  ;  and  of  the  arguments  thus 
called  into  existence  two,  both  of  extraordinary  ab- 
surdity, have  become  historically  famous — that  con- 
tained in  Hobbes'  '  Leviathan,'  and  that  taught  for  a 
period  with  much  vigour  by  the  Anglican  clergy 
under  the  name  of  Divine  right.  These  theories 
may  have  done  their  work  ;  in  any  case  they  had 
their  day.  It  was  discovered  that,  as  is  the  way  of 
abstract  arguments  dragged  in  to  meet  a  concrete 
difficulty,  they  led  logically  to  a  great  many  conclu- 
sions much  less  convenient  than  the  one  in  whose 
defence  they  had  been  originally  invoked.  The 
crisis  which  called  them  forth  passed  gradually 
away.     They  were    repugnant  to  the  taste  of  a  dif- 


226  AUTHORITY   AND   REASON 

ferent  age  ;  '  Leviathan  '  and  '  passive  obedience  ' 
were  handed  over  to  the  judgment  of  the  historian. 

This  is  an  example  of  how  an  ancient  principle, 
broadly  based  though  it  be  on  the  needs  and  feel- 
ings of  human  nature,  may  be  thought  now  and 
again  to  require  external  support  to  enable  it  to 
meet  some  special  stress  of  circumstances.  But 
often  the  stress  is  found  to  be  brief ;  a  few  internal 
alterations  meet  all  the  necessities  of  the  case ;  to  a 
new  generation  the  added  buttresses  seem  useless 
and  unsightly.  They  are  soon  demolished,  to  make 
way  in  due  time,  no  doubt,  for  others  as  temporary 
as  themselves.  Nothing  so  quickly  waxes  old  as 
apologetics,  unless»>  perhaps,  it  be  criticism. 

A  precisely  analogous  process  commonly  goes 
on  in  the  case  of  new  principles  struggling  into  rec- 
ognition. As  those  of  older  growth  are  driven  by 
the  instincts  of  self-preservation  to  call  reasoning  to 
their  assistance,  so  these  claim  the  aid  of  the  same 
ally  for  purposes  of  attack  and  aggression  ;  and  the 
incongruity  between  the  real  causes  by  which  these 
new  beliefs  are  sustained,  and  the  official  reasons  by 
which  they  are  from  time  to  time  justified,  is  often 
not  less  glaring  in  the  one  case  than  in  the  other. 
Witness  the  ostentatious  futility  of  the  theories — 
' rights  of  man,'  and  so  forth— by  the  aid  of  which 
the  modern  democratic  movement  was  nursed 
through  its  infant  maladies. 

Now  these  things  are  true,  not  alone  in  politics, 
but  in  every  field  of  human  activity  where  authority 


AUTHORITY   AND    REASON  22/ 

and  reason  co-operate  to  serve  the  needs  of  mankind 
at  large.  And  thus  may  we  account  for  the  singu- 
lar fact  that  in  many  cases  conclusions  are  more 
permanent  than  premises,  and  that  the  successive 
growths  of  apologetic  and  critical  literature  do  often 
not  more  seriously  affect  the  enduring  outline  of 
the  beliefs  by  which  they  are  occasioned  than  the 
successive  forests  of  beech  and  fir  determine  the 
shape  of  the  everlasting  hills  from  which  they 
spring. 


Here,  perhaps,  I  might  fitly  conclude  this  por- 
tion of  my  task,  were  it  not  that  one  particular  mode 
in  which  Authority  endeavours  to  call  in  reasoning 
to  its  assistance  is  so  important  in  itself,  and  has  led 
to  so  much  confusion  both  of  thought  and  of  lan- 
guage, that  a  few  paragraphs  devoted  to  its  consid- 
eration may  help  the  reader  to  a  clearer  understand- 
ing of  the  general  subject.  Authority,  as  I  have 
been  using  the  term,  is  in  all  cases  contrasted  with 
Reason,  and  stands  for  that  group  of  non-rational 
causes,  moral,  social  and  educational,  which  pro- 
duces its  results  by  psychic  processes  other  than 
reasoning.  But  there  is  a  simple  operation,  a  mere 
turn  of  phrase,  by  which  many  of  these  non-rational 
causes  can,  so  to  speak,  be  converted  into  reasons 
without  seeming  at  first  sight  thereby  to  change 
their  function  as  channels  of  Authority  ;  and  so  con- 


228  AUTHORITY   AND    REASON 

venient  is  this  method  of  bringing  these  two  sources 
of  conviction  on  to  the  same  plane,  so  perfectly  does 
it  minister  to  our  instinctive  desire  to  produce  a 
reason  for  every  challenged  belief,  that  it  is  con- 
stantly resorted  to,  without  apparently  any  clear 
idea  of  its  real  import,  both  by  those  who  regard 
themselves  as  upholders  and  those  who  regard 
themselves  as  opponents  of  Authority  in  matters  of 
opinion.  To  say  that  I  believe  a  statement  because 
I  have  been  taught  it,  or  because  my  father  believed 
it  before  me,  or  because  everybody  in  the  village 
believes  it,  is  to  announce  what  everyday  experi- 
ence informs  us  is  a  quite  adequate  cause  of  belief 
— it  is  not,  however,  per  se,  to  give  a  reason  for  be- 
lief at  all.  But  such  statements  can  be  turned  at 
once  into  reasons  by  no  process  more  elaborate 
than  that  of  explicitly  recognising  that  my  teachers, 
my  family,  or  my  neighbours,  are  truthful  per- 
sons, happy  in  the  possession  of  adequate  means  of 
information  —  propositions  which  in  their  turn,  of 
course,  require  argumentative  support.  Such  a 
procedure  may,  I  need  hardly  say,  be  quite  legiti- 
mate ;  and  reasons  of  this  kind  are  probably  the 
principal  ground  on  which  in  mature  life  we  ac- 
cept the  great  mass  of  our  subordinate  scientific 
and  historical  convictions.  I  believe,  for  instance, 
that  the  moon  falls  in  towards  the  earth  with  the 
exact  velocity  required  by  the  force  of  gravitation, 
for  no  other  reason  than  that  I  believe  in  the  com- 
petence   and  trustworthiness  of    the   persons   who 


AUTHORITY   AND    REASON  229 

have  made  the  necessary  calculations  and  observa- 
tions. In  this  case  the  reason  for  my  belief  and 
the  immediate  cause  of  it  are  identical ;  the  cause, 
indeed,  is  a  cause  only  in  virtue  of  its  being  first 
a  reason.  But  in  the  former  case  this  is  not  so. 
Mere  early  training,  paternal  authority,  or  public 
opinion,  were  causes  of  belief  before  they  were 
reasons;  they  continued  to  act  as  non-rational 
causes  after  they  became  reasons ;  and  it  is  not 
improbable  that  to  the  very  end  they  contributed 
less  to  the  resultant  conviction  in  their  capacity  as 
reasons  than  they  did  in  their  capacity  as  non- 
rational  causes. 

Now  the  temptation  tiius  to  convert  causes  into 
reasons  seems  under  certain  circumstances  to  be 
almost  irresistible,  even  when  it  is  illegitimate.  Au- 
thority, as  such,  is  from  the  nature  of  the  case 
dumb  in  the  presence  of  argument.  It  is  only  by 
reasoning  that  reasoning  can  be  answered.  It  can 
be,  and  has  often  been,  thrust  silently  aside  by  that 
instinctive  feeling  of  repulsion  which  we  call  prej- 
udice when  we  happen  to  disagree  with  it.  But  it 
can  only  be  replied  to  by  its  own  kind.  And  so  it 
comes  about  that  whenever  any  system  of  belief  is 
seriously  questioned,  a  method  of  defence  which  is 
almost  certain  to  find  favour  is  to  select  one  of  the 
causes  by  which  the  belief  has  been  produced,  and 
forthwith  to  erect  it  into  a  reason  why  the  system 
should  continue  to  be  accepted.  Authority,  as  I 
have  been  using  the  term,  is  thus  converted   into 


230  AUTHORITY   AND   REASON 

'  an  authority,'  or  into  '  authorities.'  It  ceases  to 
be  the  opposite  or  correlative  of  reason.  It  can 
no  longer  be  contrasted  with  reason.  It  becomes  a 
species  of  reason,  and  as  a  species  of  reason  it  must 
be  judged. 

So  judged,  it  appears  to  me  that  two  things  per- 
tinent to  the  present  discussion  may  be  said  of  it. 
In  the  first  place,  it  is  evidently  an  argument  of  im- 
mense utility  and  of  very  wide  application.  As  I 
have  just  noted,  it  is  the  proximate  reason  for  an 
enormous.^proportion  of  our  beliefs  as  to  matters  of 
fact,  past  and  present,  and  for  that  very  large  body 
of  scientific  knowledge  which  even  experts  in  sci- 
ence can  have  no  opportunity  of  personally  verify, 
ing.  But,  in  the  second  place,  it  seems  not  less 
clear  that  the  argument  fi"om  '  an  authority  '  or  '  au- 
thorities '  is  almost  always  useless  as  a  foundation 
for  a  system  of  belief.  The  deep -lying  principles 
which  alone  deserve  this  name  may  be,  and  fre- 
quently are,  the  product  of  authority.  But  the  at- 
tempt to  ground  them  dialectically  upon  an  author- 
ity can  scarcely  be  attempted,  except  at  the  risk  of 
logical  disaster. 

Take  as  an  example  the  general  system  of  our 
beliefs  about  the  material  universe.  The  greater 
number  of  these  are,  as  we  have  seen,  quite  legiti- 
mately based  upon  the  argument  from  '  authori- 
ties '  ;  and  it  is  extremely  probable  that  if  any  at- 
tack like  that  contained  in  the  Second  Part  of  these 
Notes  be  made  upon  the  foundations  of  the  system, 


AUTHORITY   AND   REASON  2$  I 

an  endeavour  will  be  made  to  extend  to  them  also 
the  support  of  so  useful  an  ally.  The  'universal  ex- 
perience,' or  the  '  general  consent  of  mankind,'  will 
be  adduced  as  an  authoritative  sanction  of  certain 
fundamental  presuppositions  of  physical  science ; 
and  of  these,  at  least,  it  will  be  said,  scciirus  judicat 
orbis  terrariim.  But  a  very  little  consideration  is 
sufficient  to  show  that  this  procedure  is  illegitimate, 
and  that,  as  I  have  pointed  out,  we  can  neither 
know  that  the  verdict  of  mankind  has  been  given, 
nor,  if  it  has,  that  anything  can  properly  be  in- 
ferred from  it,  unless  we  first  assume  the  truth  of 
the  very  principles  which  that  verdict  was  invoked 
to  establish.' 

The  state  of  things  is  not  materially  different 
in  the  case  of  ethics  and  theology.  There  also  the 
argument  from  'an  authority'  or  'authorities'  has 
a  legitimate  and  most  important  place ;  there  also 
there  is  a  constant  inclination  to  extend  the  use  of 
the  argument  so  as  to  cover  the  fundamental  portions 
of  the  system  ;  and  there  also  this  endeavour,  when 
made,  seems  predestined  to  end  in  a  piece  of  circular 
reasoning.  I  can  hardly  illustrate  this  statement 
without  mentioning  dogma  ;  though,  as  the  reader 
will  readily  undci-stand,  I  have  not  the  slightest  desire 
to  do  anything  so  little  relevant  to  the  purposes  of 
this  Introduction  in  order  to  argue  either  for  or 
against  it.     As  to  the  reality  of  an  infallible  guide, 

'  Cf.  for  a  development  of  this  statement,  Philowphic  Doubt, 
chap.  vii. 


232  AUTHORITY   AND   REASON 

in  whatever  shape  this  has  been  accepted  by  various 
sections  of  Christians,  I  have  not  a  word  to  say.  As 
part  of  a  creed  it  is  quite  outside  the  scope  of  my 
inquiry.  I  have  to  do  with  it  only  if,  and  in  so  far 
as,  it  is  represented,  not  as  part  of  the  thing  to  be 
believed,  but  as  one  of  the  fundamental  reasons  for 
believing  it ;  and  in  that  position  I  think  it  inad- 
missible. 

Merely  as  an  illustration,  then,  let  us  consider  for 

a  moment  the  particular  case  of  Papal  Infallibility, 

an  example  which  may  be  regarded  with  the  greater 

impartiality  as  I  am  not,  I   suppose,  likely  to  have 

among  the  readers  of  these  Notes  many  by  whom  it 

is  accepted.     If  I  rightly  understand  the  teaching  of 

the  Roman  Catholic  theologians  upon  this  subject, 

the  following  propositions,  at  least,  must  be  accepted 

before  the  doctrine  of  Infallibility  can  be  regarded  as 

satisfactorily  proved  or  adequately  held  : — (i)  That 

the  words  '  Thou  art  Peter,  and  upon  this  rock,'  &c., 

and,  again, '  Feed  my  sheep,'  were  uttered  by  Christ ; 

and  that,  being  so  uttered,  were  of  Divine  authorship, 

and  cannot  fail.     (2)  That  the  meaning  of  these  words 

is— (rt)  that  St.  Peter  was  endowed  with  a  primacy 

of  jurisdiction  over  the  other  Apostles  ;  {b)  that  he 

was  to  have  a  perpetual  line  of  successors,  similarly 

endowed  with  a    primacy  of   jurisdiction  ;  {c)  that 

these  successors  were  to  be  Bishops  of  Rome  ;  {d) 

that  the  primacy  of  jurisdiction  carries  with  it  the 

certainty  of  Divine  'assistance';  (r)  that  though  this 

*  assistance '  does  not  ensure  either  the  morality,  or 


AUTHORITY   AND    REASON  233 

the  wisdom,  or  the  general  accuracy  of  the  Pontiff 
to  whom  it  is  given,  it  does  ensure  his  absolute 
inerrancy  whenever  he  shall,  ex  cathedra,  define  a 
doctrine  of  faith  or  morals  ;  (/)  that  no  pronounce- 
ment can  be  regarded  as  ex  cathedra  unless  it  relates 
to  some  matter  already  thoroughly  sifted  and  con- 
sidered by  competent  divines. 

Now  it  is  no  part  of  my  business  to  ask  how  the 
six  sub-heads  contained  in  the  second  of  these  prop- 
ositions can  by  any  legitimate  process  of  exegesis  be 
extracted  from  the  texts  mentioned  in  the  first ;  nor 
how,  if  they  be  accepted  to  the  full,  they  can  obviate 
the  necessity  for  the  complicated  exercise  of  private 
judgment  required  to  determine  whether  an}^  particu- 
lar decision  has  or  has  not  been  made  under  the  con- 
ditions necessary  to  constitute  it  a  pronouncement 
ex  cathedra.  These  are  questions  to  be  discussed 
between  Roman  Catholic  and  non-Romaii  Catholic 
controversialists,  and  with  which  I  have  nothing  here 
to  do.  My  point  is,  that  the  first  proposition  alone 
is  so  absolutely  subversive  of  any  purely  naturalistic 
view  of  the  universe,  involves  so  many  fundamental 
elements  of  Christianity  {e.g:  the  supernatural  char- 
acter of  Christ  and  the  trustworthiness  of  the  first 
and  fourth  Gospels,  with  all  that  this  carries  with 
it),  that  if  it  does  not  require  the  argument  from  an 
infallible  authority  for  its  support,  it  seems  hard  to 
understand  where  the  necessity  for  that  argument 
can  come  in  at  any  fundamental  stage  of  apologetic 
demonstration.     And  that  this  ])roposition  does  not 


234  AUTHORITY   AND   REASON 

require  infallible  authority  for  its  support  seems 
plain  from  the  fact  that  it  does  itself  supply  the  main 
ground  on  which  the  existence  of  infallible  authority 
is  believed. 

This  is  not,  and  is  not  intended  to  be,  an  objec- 
tion to  the  doctrine  of  Papal  Infallibility  ;  it  is  not, 
and  is  not  intended  to  be,  a  criticism  by  means  of 
example  directed  against  other  doctrines  involving 
the  existence  of  an  unerring  guide.  But  if  the  reader 
will  attentively  consider  the  matter  he  will,  I  think, 
see  that  whatever  be  the  truth  or  the  value  of  such 
doctrines,  they  can  never  be  used  to  supply  any 
fundamental  support  to  the  systems  of  which  they 
form  a  part  without  being  open  to  a  reply  like  that 
which  I  have  supposed  in  the  case  of  Papal  Infalli- 
bility. Indeed,  when  we  reflect  upon  the  character 
of  the  religious  books  and  of  the  religious  organisa- 
tions through  which  Christianity  has  been  built  up; 
when  we  consider  the  variety  in  date,  in  occasion, 
in  authorship,  in  context,  in  spiritual  development, 
which  mark  the  first ;  the  stormy  history  and  the  in- 
evitable division  which  mark  the  second ;  when  we, 
further,  reflect  on  the  astonishing  number  of  the 
problems,  linguistic,  critical,  metaphysical,  and  his- 
torical which  must  be  settled,  at  least  in  some  pre- 
liminary fashion,  before  either  the  books  or  the  or- 
ganisations can  be  supposed  entitled  by  right  of 
rational  proof  to  the  position  of  infallible  guides,  we 
can  hardly  suppose  that  we  were  intended  to  find  in 
these  the  logical  foundations  of  our  system  of  relig- 


AUTHORITY   AND    REASON  235 

ious  beliefs,  however  important  be  the  part  (and  can 
it  be  exaggerated  ?)  which  they  were  destined  to 
play  in  producing,  fostering,  and  directing  it. 


VI 

Enough  has  now,  perhaps,  been  said  to  indicate 
the  relative  positions  of  Reason  and  Authority  in  the 
production  of  belief.  To  Reason  is  largely  due  the 
growth  of  new  and  the  sifting  of  old  knowledge ; 
the  ordering,  and  in  part  the  discovery,  of  that  vast 
body  of  systematised  conclusions  which  constitute 
so  large  a  portion  of  scientific,  philosophical,  ethical, 
political,  and  theological  learning.  To  Reason  we 
are  in  some  measure  beholden,  though  not,  perhaps, 
so  much  as  we  suppose,  for  hourly  aid  in  managing 
so  much  of  the  trifling  portion  of  our  personal  af- 
fairs entrusted  to  our  care  by  Nature  as  we  do  not 
happen  to  have  already  surrendered  to  the  control 
of  habit.  By  Reason  also  is  directed,  or  misdirect- 
ed, the  public  policy  of  communities  within  the  nar- 
row limits  of  deviation  permitted  by  accepted  cus- 
tom and  tradition.  Of  its  immense  indirect  conse- 
quences, of  the  part  it  has  played  in  the  evolution 
of  human  affairs  by  the  disintegration  of  ancient 
creeds,  by  the  alteration  of  the  external  conditions 
of  human  life,  by  the  production  of  new  moods  of 
thought,  or,  as  I  have  termed  them,  psychological 
climates,  we  can  in  this  connection  say  nothing. 
For   these    are    no   rational   effects   of  reason  ;    the 


236  AUTHORITY   AND    REASON 

causal  nexus  by  which  they  are  bound  to  reason  has 
no  logical  aspect ;  and  if  reason  produces  them,  as 
in  part  it  certainly  does,  it  is  in  a  manner  indistin- 
guishable from  that  in  which  similar  consequences 
are  bhndly  produced  by  the  distribution  of  conti- 
nent and  ocean,  the  varying  fertility  of  different  re- 
gions, and  the  other  material  surroundings  by  which 
the  destinies  of  the  race  are  modified. 

When  we  turn,  however,  from  the  conscious 
work  of  Reason  to  that  which  is  unconsciously  per- 
formed for  us  by  Authority,  a  very  different  spec- 
tacle arrests  our  attention.  The  effects  of  the  first, 
prominent  as  they  are  through  the  dignity  of  their 
origin,  are  trifling  compared  with  the  all-pervading 
influences  which  flow  from  the  second.  At  every 
moment  of  our  lives,  as  individuals,  as  members  of 
a  family,  of  a  party,  of  a  nation,  of  a  Church,  of  a 
universal  brotherhood,  the  silent,  continuous,  unno- 
ticed influence  of  Authority  moulds  our  feelings,  our 
aspirations,  and,  what  we  are  more  immediately  con- 
cerned with,  our  beliefs.  It  is  from  Authority  that 
Reason  itself  draws  its  most  important  premises.  It 
is  in  unloosing  or  directing  the  forces  of  Authority 
that  its  most  important  conclusions  find  their  prin- 
cipal function.  And  even  in  those  cases  where  we 
may  most  truly  say  that  our  beliefs  are  the  rational 
product  of  strictly  intellectual  processes,  we  have, 
in  all  probability,  only  got  to  trace  back  the  thread 
of  our  inferences  to  its  beginnings  in  order  to  per- 
ceive that  it  finally  loses  itself  in  some  general  princi- 


AUTHORITY   AND    REASON  237 

pie  which,  describe  it  as  we  may,  is  in  fact  due  to  no 
more  defensible  origin  than  the  influence  of  Au- 
thority. 

Nor  is  the  comparative  pettiness  of  the  role  thus 
played  by  reasoning  in  human  affairs  a  matter  for 
re«-ret.  Not  merely  because  we  are  ignorant  of  the 
data  required  for  the  solution,  even  of  very  simple 
problems  in  organic  and  social  life,  are  we  called  on 
to  acquiesce  in  an  arrangement  which,  to  be  sure, 
we  have  no  power  to  disturb  ;  nor  yet  because  these 
data,  did  we  possess  them,  are  too  complex  to  be 
dealt  with  by  any  rational  calculus  we  possess  or  are 
ever  likely  to  acquire  ;  but  because,  in  addition  to 
these  difficulties,  reasoning  is  a  force  most  apt  to  di- 
vide and  disintegrate ;  and  though  division  and  dis- 
integration may  often  be  the  necessary  preliminaries 
of  social  development,  still  more  necessary  are  the 
forces  which  bind  and  stiffen,  without  which  there 
would  be  no  society  to  develop. 

It  is  true,  no  doubt,  that  we  can,  without  any 
great  expenditure  of  research,  accumulate  instances 
in  which  Authority  has  perpetuated  error  and  re- 
tarded progress ;  for,  unluckily,  none  of  the  influ- 
ences, Reason  least  of  all,  by  which  the  history  of 
the  race  has  been  moulded  have  been  productive  of 
unmixed  good.  The  springs  at  which  we  quench 
our  thirst  arc  always  turbid.  Yet,  if  we  arc  to 
judge  with  equity  between  these  rival  claimants,  we 
must  not  forget  that  it  is  Authority  rather  than 
Reason  to  which,  in  the  main,  wc  owe,  not  religion 


238  AUTHORITY   AND   REASON 

only,  but  ethics  and  politics ;  that  it  is  Authority 
which  supplies  us  with  essential  elements  in  the 
premises  of  science  ;  that  it  is  Authority  rather  than 
Reason  which  lays  deep  the  foundations  of  social 
life ;  that  it  is  Authority  rather  than  Reason  which 
cements  its  superstructure.  And  though  it  may 
seem  to  savour  of  paradox,  it  is  yet  no  exaggeration 
to  say,  that  if  we  would  find  the  quality  in  which 
we  most  notably  excel  the  brute  creation,  we  should 
look  for  it,  not  so  much  in  our  faculty  of  convincing 
and  being  convinced  by  the  exercise  of  reasoning,  as 
in  our  capacity  for  influencing  and  being  influenced 
through  the  action  of  Authority. 


PART   IV 

SUGGESTIONS   TOWARDS 
A   PROVISIONAL   PHILOSOPHY 


CHAPTER   I 

THE    GROUNDWORK 


We  have  now  considered  beliefs,  or  certain  impor- 
tant classes  of  them,  under  three  aspects.  We  have 
considered  them  from  the  point  of  view  of  their 
practical  necessity  ;  from  that  of  their  philosophic 
proof;  and  from  that  of  their  scientific  origin.  In- 
quiries relating  to  the  same  subject-matter  more 
distinct  in  their  character  it  would  be  difficult  to 
conceive.  It  remains  for  us  to  consider  whether  it 
is  possible  to  extract  from  their  combined  results 
any  general  view  which  may  command  at  least  a 
provisional  assent. 

It  is  evident,  of  course,  that  this  general  view,  if 
we  are  fortunate  enough  to  reach  it,  will  not  be  of 
the  nature  of  a  complete  or  adequate  philosophy. 
The  unification  of  all  belief  into  an  ordered  whole, 
compacted  into  one  coherent  structure  under  the 
stress  of  reason,  is  an  ideal  which  we  can  never 
abandon ;  but  it  is  also  one  which,  in  the  present 
condition  of  our  knowledge,  perhaps  even  of  our 
faculties,  we  seem  incapable  of  attaining.     For  the 

i6 


242  THE   GROUNDWORK 

moment  we  must  content  ourselves  with  something 
less  than  this.  The  best  system  we  can  hope  to 
construct  will  suffer  from  gaps  and  rents,  from  loose 
ends  and  ragged  edges.  It  does  not,  however,  fol- 
low from  this  that  it  will  be  without  a  high  degree 
of  value  ;  and,  whether  valuable  or  worthless,  it  may 
at  least  represent  the  best  within  our  reach. 

By  the  best  I,  of  course,  mean  best  in  relation  to 
reflective  reason.  If  we  have  to  submit,  as  I  think 
we  must,  to  an  incomplete  rationalisation  of  belief, 
this  ought  not  to  be  because  in  a  fit  of  intellectual 
despair  we  are  driven  to  treat  reason  as  an  illusion ; 
nor  yet  because  we  have  deliberately  resolved  to 
transfer  our  allegiance  to  irrational  or  non-rational 
inclination  ;  but  because  reason  itself  assures  us  that 
such  a  course  is,  at  the  lowest,  the  least  irrational 
one  open  to  us.  If  we  have  to  find  our  way  over 
difficult  seas  and  under  murky  skies  without  com- 
pass or  chronometer,  we  need  not  on  that  account 
allow  the  ship  to  drive  at  random.  Rather  ought 
we  to  weigh  with  the  more  anxious  care  every  in- 
dication, be  it  negative  or  positive,  and  from  what- 
ever quarter  it  may  come,  which  can  help  us  to 
guess  at  our  position  and  to  lay  out  the  course 
which  it  behoves  us  to  steer. 

Now,  the  first  and  most  elementary  principle 
which  ought  to  guide  us  in  framing  any  provisional 
scheme  of  unification,  is  to  decline  to  draw  any  dis- 
tinction between  different  classes  of  belief  where  no 
relevant  distinction  can  as  a  matter  of  fact  be  dis- 


THE   GROUNDWORK  243 

covered.  To  pursue  the  opposite  course  would  be 
gratuitously  to  irrationalise  (to  coin  a  convenient 
word)  our  scheme  from  the  very  start ;  to  destroy, 
by  a  quite  arbitrary  treatment,  any  hope  of  its 
symmetrical  and  healthy  development.  And  yet,  if 
there  be  any  value  in  the  criticisms  contained  in  the 
Second  Part  of  these  Notes,  this  is  precisely  the 
mistake  into  which  the  advocates  of  naturalism  have 
invariably  blundered.  Without  any  preliminary 
analysis,  nay,  without  any  apparent  suspicion  that 
a  preliminary  analysis  was  necessary  or  desirable, 
they  have  chosen  to  assume  that  scientific  beliefs 
stand  not  only  upon  a  different,  but  upon  a  much 
more  solid,  platform  than  any  others ;  that  scientific 
standards  supply  the  sole  test  of  truth,  and  scientific 
methods  the  sole  instruments  of  discovery. 

I  will  not  repeat  the  arguments  which  have  led 
me  to  the  conviction  that  such  pretensions  have  no 
foundation  in  reason.  The  reader  is  already  in  pos- 
session of  some  of  the  arguments  which  are,  as  it 
seems  to  me,  fatal  to  such  claims,  and  it  is  not  nec- 
essary here  to  repeat  them.  What  is  more  to  our 
present  purpose  is  to  find  out  whether,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  philosophic  proof,  judgments  about  the 
phenomenal,  and  more  particularly  about  the  ma- 
terial, world  possess  any  other  characteristics  which, 
in  our  attempt  at  a  provisional  unification  of  knowl- 
edge, forbid  us  to  place  them  on  a  level  with  other 
classes  of  belief.  That  there  arc  differences  of  some 
sort  no  one,  I  imagine,  will  attempt  to  deny.     But 


244  THE   GROUNDWORK 

are  they  of  a  kind  which  require  us  either  to  give 
any  special  precedence  to  science,  or  to  exclude 
other  beliefs  altogether  from  our  general  scheme  ? 

One  peculiarity  there  is  which  seems  at  first 
sight  effectually  to  distinguish  cei-tain  scientific  be- 
liefs from  any  which  belong,  say,  to  ethics  or  the- 
ology ;  a  peculiarity  which  may,  perhaps,  be  best 
expressed  by  the  word  '  inevitableness.'  Every- 
body has,  and  everybody  is  obliged  to  have,  some 
convictions  about  the  world  in  which  he  lives — con- 
victions which  in  their  narrow  and  particular  form 
(as  what  I  have  before  called  beliefs  of  perception, 
memory,  and  expectation)  guide  us  all,  children, 
savages,  and  philosophers  alike,  in  the  ordinary 
conduct  of  day-to-day  existence ;  which,  when  gen- 
eralised and  extended,  supply  us  with  some  of  the 
leading  presuppositions  on  which  the  whole  fabric 
of  science  appears  logically  to  depend.  No  convic- 
tions quite  answering  to  this  description  can,  I  think, 
be  found  either  in  ethics,  aesthetics,  or  theology. 
Some  kind  of  morality  is,  no  doubt,  required  for  the 
stability  even  of  the  rudest  form  of  social  life.  Some 
sense  of  beauty,  some  kind  of  religion,  is,  perhaps, 
to  be  discovered  (though  this  is  disputed)  in  every 
human  community.  But  certainly  there  is  noth- 
ing in  either  of  these  great  departments  of  thought 
quite  corresponding  to  our  habitual  judgments 
about  the  things  we  see  and  handle ;  judgments 
which,  with  reason  or  without  it,  all  mankind  are 
practically  compelled  to  entertain. 


THE   GROUNDWORK  245 

Compare,  for  example,  the  central  truth  of  theol- 
ogy—  'There  is  a  God' — with  one  of  the  funda- 
mental presuppositions  of  science  (itself  a  general- 
ised statement  of  what  is  given  in  ordinary  judg- 
ments of  perception) — '  There  is  an  independent 
material  world.'  I  am  myself  disposed  to  doubt 
whether  so  good  a  case  can  be  made  out  for  accept- 
ing the  second  of  these  propositions  as  can  be  made 
out  for  accepting  the  first.  But  while  it  has  been 
found  by  many,  not  only  possible,  but  easy,  to  doubt 
the  existence  of  God,  doubts  as  to  the  independent 
existence  of  matter  have  assuredly  been  confined  to 
the  rarest  moments  of  subjective  reflection,  and 
have  dissolved  like  summer  mists  at  the  first  touch 
of  what  we  are  pleased  to  call  reality. 

Now,  what  are  we  to  make  of  this  fact  ?  In  the 
opinion  of  many  persons,  perhaps  of  most,  it  affords 
a  conclusive  ground  for  elevating  science  to  a  dif- 
ferent plane  of  certitude  from  that  on  which  other 
systems  of  belief  must  be  content  to  dwell.  The 
evidence  of  the  senses,  as  we  loosely  describe  these 
judgments  of  perception,  is  for  such  person  the  best 
of  all  evidence  :  it  is  inevitable,  so  it  is  true  ;  seeing, 
as  the  proverb  has  it,  is  indeed  believing.  This 
somewhat  crude  view,  however,  is  not  one  which 
we  can  accept.  The  coercion  exercised  in  the  |)r()- 
ducti(jn  of  these  beliefs  is  not,  as  has  been  already 
shown,  a  rational  coercion.  Even  while  we  submit 
to  it  we  may  judge  it ;  and  in  the  very  act  of  be- 
lieving  we   may  be  conscious  that  Ihe  strength  of 


246  THE   GROUNDWORK 

our  belief  is  far  in  excess  of  anything  which  mere 
reasoning-  can  justify. 

I  am  making  no  complaint  of  this  disparity  be- 
tween belief  and  its  reasons.  On  the  contrary,  I 
have  already  noted  my  dissent  from  the  popular 
view  that  it  is  our  business  to  take  care  that,  as  far 
as  possible,  these  two  shall  in  every  case  be  nicely 
adjusted.  It  cannot,  I  contend,  be  our  duty  to  do 
that  in  the  name  of  reason  which,  if  it  were  done, 
would  bring  any  kind  of  rational  life  to  an  immedi- 
ate standstill.  And  even  if  we  could  suppose  it  to 
be  our  duty,  it  is  not  one  which,  as  was  shown  in 
the  last  chapter,  we  are  practically  competent  to 
perform.  If  this  be  true  in  the  case  of  those  be- 
liefs which  owe  their  origin  largely  to  Authority, 
or  the  non-rational  action  of  mind  on  mind,  not  less 
is  it  true  in  the  case  of  those  elementary  judgments 
which  arise  out  of  sense  -  stimulation.  Whether 
there  be  an  independent  material  universe  or  not 
may  be  open  to  philosophic  doubt.  But  that,  if  it 
exists,  it  is  expedient  that  the  belief  in  it  should  be 
accepted  with  a  credence  which  for  all  practical 
purposes  is  immediate  and  unwavering,  admits,  I 
think,  of  no  doubt  whatever.  If  we  could  suppose 
a  community  to  be  called  into  being  who,  in  their 
dealings  with  the  '  external  world,'  should  permit 
action  to  wait  upon  speculation,  and  require  all  its 
metaphysical  difficulties  to  be  solved  before  repos- 
ing full  belief  in  some  such  material  surroundings 
as  those  which  we  habitually  postulate,  its  members 


THE   GROUNDWORK  24/ 

would  be  overwhelmed  by  a  ruin  more  rapid  and 
more  complete  than  that  which,  in  a  preceding- 
chapter,  was  prophesied  for  those  who  should  suc- 
ceed in  ousting  authority  from  its  natural  position 
among  the  causes  of  belief. 

But  supposing  this  be  so,  it  follows  necessarily, 
on  accepted  biological  principles,^  that  a  kind  of 
credulity  so  essential  to  the  welfare,  not  merely  of 
the  race  as  a  whole,  but  of  every  single  member 
of  it,  will  be  bred  by  elimination  and  selection  into 
its  inmost  organisation.  If  we  consider  what  must 
have  happened  at  that  critical  moment  in  the  history 
of  organic  development,  when  first  conscious  judg- 
ments of  sense-perception  made  themselves  felt  as 
important  links  in  the  chain  connecting  nervous 
irritability  with  muscular  action,  is  it  not  plain  that 
any  individual  in  whom  such  judgments  were  ha- 
bituallv  qualified  and  enfeebled  by  even  the  most 
legitimate  scepticism  would  incontinently  perish, 
and  that  those  only  would  survive  who  possessed, 
and  could  presumably  transmit  to  their  descend- 
ants, a  stubborn  assurance  which  was  beyond  the 
power  of  reasoning  either  to  fortify  or  to  under- 
mine ? 

No  such  process  would  come  to  the  assistance  oi 

*  At  the  first  glance,  the  reader  may  be  disposed  to  think  that  to 
bring  in  science  to  show  why  no  pecuHar  certainty  should  attach  to 
scientific  premises  is  logically  inadmissible.  But  this  is  not  so: 
though  the  converse  procedure,  by  which  scientific  conclusions 
would  be  made  to  establish  scientific  premises,  would,  no  doubt, 
involve  an  argument  in  a  circle. 


248  THE   GROUNDWORK 

other  faiths,  however  true,  which  were  the  growth 
of  higher  and  later  stages  of  civilised  development. 
For,  in  the  first  place,  such  faiths  are  not  necessa- 
rily, nor  perhaps  at  all,  an  advantage  in  the  struggle 
for  existence.  In  the  second  place,  even  where  they 
are  an  advantage,  it  is  rather  to  the  community  as  a 
whole  in  its  struggles  with  other  communities,  than 
to  each  particular  individual  in  his  struggle  with 
other  individuals,  or  with  the  inanimate  forces  of 
Nature.  In  the  third  place,  the  whole  machinery  of 
selection  and  elimination  has  been  weakened,  if  not 
paralysed,  by  civilisation  itself.  And,  in  the  fourth 
place,  were  it  still  in  full  operation,  it  could  not, 
through  the  mere  absence  of  time  and  opportunity, 
have  produced  any  sensible  effect  in  moulding  the 
organism  for  the  reception  of  beliefs  which,  by 
hypothesis,  are  the  recent  acquisition  of  a  small  and 
advanced  minority. 

II 

We  are  now  in  a  position  to  answer  the  question 
put  a  few  pages  back.  What,  I  then  asked,  if  any, 
is  the  import,  from  our  present  point  of  view,  of  the 
universality  and  inevitableness  which  unquestion- 
ably attach  to  certain  judgments  about  the  world  of 
phenomena,  and  to  these  judgments  alone  ?  The 
answer  must  be,  that  these  peculiarities  have  no 
import.  They  exist,  but  they  are  irrelevant.  Faith 
or  assurance,  which,  if  not  in  excess  of  reason,  is  at 


THE   GROUNDWORK  249 

least  independent  of  it,  seems  to  be  a  necessity  in 
every  great  department  of  knowledge  which  touches 
on  action ;  and  what  great  department  is  there 
which  does  not?  The  analysis  of  sense-experience 
teaches  us  that  we  require  it  in  our  ordinary  deal- 
ings with  the  material  world.  The  most  cursory 
examination  into  the  springs  of  moral  action  shows 
that  it  is  an  indispensable  supplement  to  ethical 
speculation.  Theologians  are  for  the  most  part 
agreed  that  without  it  religion  is  but  the  ineffectual 
profession  of  a  barren  creed.  The  comparative 
value,  however,  of  these  faiths  is  not  to  be  measured 
either  by  their  intensity  or  by  the  degree  of  their 
diffusion.  It  is  true  that  all  men,  whatever  their 
speculative  opinions,  enjoy  a  practical  assurance 
Avith  regard  to  what  they  see  and  touch.  It  is  also 
true  that  few  men  have  an  assurance  equally  strong 
about  matters  of  which  their  senses  tell  them  noth- 
ing immediately;  and  that  many  men  have  on  such 
subjects  no  assurance  at  all.  But  as  this  is  precisely 
what  we  should  expect  if,  in  the  progress  of  evolu- 
tion, the  need  for  other  faiths  has  arisen  under  con- 
ditions very  different  from  those  which  produced 
our  innate  and  long-descended  confidence  in  sense- 
perception,  how  can  we  regard  it  as  a  distinction  in 
favour  of  the  latter?  We  can  scarcely  reckon  uni- 
versality and  necessity  as  badges  of  pre-eminence, 
at  the  same  moment  that  we  recognise  them  as 
marks  of  the  elementary  and  primitive  character  of 
the  beliefs  to  which  they  give  their  all-powerful,  but 


250  THE   GROUNDWORK 

none  the  less  irrational,  sanction.  The  time  has 
passed  for  believing  that  the  further  we  go  back 
towards  the  *  state  of  nature,'  the  nearer  we  get  to 
Virtue  and  to  Truth. 

We  cannot,  then,  extract  out  of  the  coercive 
character  of  certain  unreasoned  beliefs  any  principle 
of  classification  which  shall  help  us  to  the  provi- 
sional philosophy  of  which  we  are  in  search.  What 
such  a  principle  would  require  us  to  include  in  our 
system  of  beliefs  contents  us  not.  What  it  would 
require  us  to  exclude  we  may  not  willingly  part 
with.  And  if,  dissatisfied  with  this  double  defici- 
ency, we  examine  more  closely  into  its  character 
and  origin,  we  find,  not  only  that  it  is  without 
rational  justification — of  which  at  this  stage  of  our 
inquiry  we  have  no  right  to  complain — but  that  the 
very  account  which  it  gives  of  itself  precludes  us 
from  finding  in  it  even  a  temporary  place  of  intel- 
lectual repose. 

I  do  not,  be  it  observed,  make  it  a  matter  of 
complaint  that  those  who  erect  the  inevitable  judg- 
ments of  sense-perception  into  a  norm  or  standard 
of  right  belief  have  thereby  substituted  (however 
unconsciously)  psychological  compulsion  for  ra- 
tional necessity ;  for,  as  rational  necessity  does  not, 
so  far  as  I  can  see,  carry  us  at  the  best  beyond  a 
system  of  mere  '  solipsism,'  it  must,  somehow  or 
other,  be  supplemented  if  we  are  to  force  an  en- 
trance into  any  larger  and  worthier  inheritance. 
My  complaint   rather  is,  that  having  asked  us  to 


THE   GROUNDWORK  25 1 

acquiesce  in  the  guidance  of  non-rational  impulse, 
they  should  then  require  us  arbitrarily  to  narrow 
down  the  impulses  which  we  may  follow  to  the 
almost  animal  instincts  lying  at  the  root  of  our 
judgments  about  material  phenomena.  It  is  surely 
better — less  repugnant,  I  mean,  to  reflective  reason 
— to  frame  for  ourselves  some  wider  scheme  which, 
though  it  be  founded  in  the  last  resort  upon  our 
needs,  shall  at  least  take  account  of  other  needs  than 
those  we  share  with  our  brute  progenitors. 

And  here,  if  not  elsewhere,  I  may  claim  the  sup- 
port of  the  most  famous  masters  of  speculation. 
Though  they  have  not,  it  may  be,  succeeded  in  sup- 
plying us  with  a  satisfactory  explanation  of  the  Uni- 
verse, at  least  the  Universe  which  they  have  sought 
to  explain  has  been  something  more  than  a  mere 
collection  of  hypostatised  sense-perceptions,  packed 
side  by  side  in  space,  and  following  each  other  with 
blind  uniformity  in  time.  All  the  great  architects 
of  systems  have  striven  to  provide  accommodation 
within  their  schemes  for  ideas  of  wider  sweep  and 
richer  content ;  and  whether  they  desired  to  support, 
to  modify,  or  to  oppose  the  popular  theolog}'  of 
their  day,  they  have  at  least  given  hospitable  wel- 
come to  some  of  its  most  important  conceptions. 

In  the  case  of  such  men  as  Leibnitz,  Kant,  Hegel, 
this  is  obvious  enough.  It  is  true,  I  think,  even  in 
such  a  case  as  that  of  Spinoza.  Philosophers,  in- 
deed, may  find  but  small  satisfaction  in  his  methods 
or  conclusions.     They  may  see  but  little  to  admire 


252  THE   GROUNDWORK 

in  his  elaborate  but  illusory  show  of  quasi-mathe- 
matical demonstration ;  in  the  Nature  which  is  so 
unlike  the  Nature  of  the  physicist  that  we  feel  no 
surprise  at  its  being  also  called  God ;  in  the  God 
Who  is  so  unlike  the  God  of  the  theologian  that  we 
feel  no  surprise  at  His  also  being  called  Nature ;  in 
the  rt/r/crz  metaphysic  which  evolves  the  universe 
from  definitions;  in  the  freedom  which  is  indistin- 
guishable from  necessity ;  in  the  volition  which  is 
indistinguishable  from  intellect;  in  the  love  which 
is  indistinguishable  from  reasoned  acquiescence ; 
in  the  universe  from  which  have  been  expelled  pur- 
pose, morality,  beauty,  and  causation,  and  which 
contains,  therefore,  but  scant  room  for  theology, 
ethics,  aesthetics,  and  science.  In  the  two  hundred 
years  and  more  which  have  elapsed  since  the  pub- 
lication of  his  system,  it  may  be  doubted  whether 
two  hundred  persons  have  been  convinced  by  his 
reasoning.  Yet  he  continues  to  interest  the  world ; 
and  why  ?  Not,  surely,  as  a  guide  through  the  mazes 
of  metaphysics.  Not  as  a  pioneer  of  '  higher '  criti- 
cism. Least  of  all  because  he  was  anything  so  com- 
monplace as  a  heretic  or  an  atheist.  The  true  rea- 
son appears  to  me  to  be  very  different.  It  is  partly, 
at  least,  because  in  despite  of  his  positive  teaching 
he  was  endowed  with  a  religious  imagination  which, 
in  however  abstract  and  metaphysical  a  fashion, 
illumined  the  whole  profitless  bulk  of  inconclusive 
demonstration;  which  enabled  him  to  find  in  notions 
most  remote  from  sense-experience  the  only  abiding 


THE   GROUNDWORK  253 

realities ;  and  to  convert  a  purely  rational  adhesion 
to  the  conclusions  supposed  to  flow  from  the  nature 
of  an  inactive,  impersonal,  and  unmoral  substance, 
into  something  not  quite  inaptly  termed  the  Love 
of  God. 

It  will,  perhaps,  be  objected  that  we  have  no 
right  to  claim  support  from  the  example  of  system- 
makers  with  whose  systems  we  do  not  happen  to 
agree.  How,  it  may  be  asked,  can  it  concern  us  that 
Spinoza  extracted  something  like  a  religion  out  of 
his  philosophy,  if  we  do  not  accept  his  philosophy? 
Or  that  Hegel  found  it  impossible  to  hitch  large  frag- 
ments of  Christian  dogma  into  the  development  of 
the  '  Idea,'  if  we  are  not  convinced  by  his  dialectic? 
It  concerns  us,  I  reply,  inasmuch  as  facts  like  these 
furnish  fresh  confirmation  of  a  truth  reached  before 
by  another  method.  The  naturalistic  creed,  which 
merely  systematises  and  expands  the  ordinary  judg- 
ments of  sense-perception,  we  found  by  direct  ex- 
amination to  be  quite  inadequate.  We  now  note 
that  its  inadequacy  has  been  commonly  assumed  by 
men  whose  speculative  genius  is  admitted,  who  have 
seldom  been  content  to  allow  that  the  world  of 
which  they  had  to  give  an  account  could  be  nar- 
rowed down  to  the  naturalistic  pattern. 


254  THE  GROUNDWORK 


III 


But  a  more  serious  objection  to  the  point  of  view 
here  adopted  remains  to  be  considered.  Is  not,  it 
will  be  asked,  the  whole  method  followed  through- 
out the  course  of  these  Notes  intrinsically  unsound  ? 
Is  it  not  substantially  identical  with  the  attempt, 
not  made  now  for  the  first  time,  to  rest  superstition 
upon  scepticism,  and  to  frame  our  creed,  not  in 
accordance  with  the  rules  of  logic,  but  with  the 
promptings  of  desire?  It  begins  (may  it  not  be 
said  ?)  by  discrediting  reason  ;  and  having  thus 
guaranteed  its  results  against  inconvenient  criti- 
cism,, it  proceeds  to  make  the  needs  of  man  the 
measure  of  '  objective  '  reality,  to  erect  his  conve- 
nience into  the  touchstone  of  Eternal  Truth,  and  to 
mete  out  the  Universe  on  a  plan  authenticated  only 
by  his  wishes. 

Now,  on  this  criticism  I  have,  in  the  first  place, 
to  observe  that  it  errs  in  assuming,  either  that  the 
object  aimed  at  in  the  preceding  discussion  is  to 
discredit  reason,  or  that  as  a  matter  of  fcict  this  has 
been  its  effect.  On  the  contrary,  be  the  character 
of  our  conclusions  what  it  may,  they  have  at  least 
been  arrived  at  by  allowing  the  fullest  play  to  free, 
rational  investigation.  If  one  consequence  of  this 
investigation  has  been  to  diminish  the  importance 
commonly  attributed  to  reason  among  the  causes 
by  which  belief  is  produced,  it  is  by  the  action  of 


THE   GROUNDWORK  255 

reason  itself  that  this  result  has  been  brought  about. 
If  another  consequence  has  been  that  doubts  have 
been  expressed  as  to  the  theoretic  validity  of  certain 
universally  accepted  beliefs,  this  is  because  the  right 
of  reason  to  deal  with  every  province  of  knowledge, 
untrammelled  by  arbitrary  restrictions  or  customary 
immunities,  has  been  assumed  and  acted  upon.  If, 
in  addition  to  all  this,  we  have  been  incidentally 
compelled  to  admit  that  as  yet  we  are  without  a  sat- 
isfactoi"y  philosoph}',  the  admission  has  not  been 
asked  for  in  the  interests  either  of  scepticism  or  of 
superstition.  Reason  is  not  honoured  by  pretend- 
ing that  she  has  done  what  as  a  matter  of  fact  is  still 
undone;  nor  need  we  be  driven  into  a  universal 
license  of  credulity  by  recognising  that  we  must  for 
the  present  put  up  with  some  working  hypothesis 
which  falls  far  short  of  speculative  perfection. 

But,  further,  is  it  true  to  say  that,  in  the  absence 
of  reason,  we  have  contentedly  accepted  mere  desire 
for  our  guide?  No  doubt  the  theory  here  advocated 
requires  us  to  take  account,  not  merely  of  premises 
and  their  conclusions,  but  of  needs  and  their  satis- 
faction. But  tins  is  only  asking  us  to  do  explicitly 
and  on  system  what  on  the  naturalistic  theory  is 
done  unconsciously  and  at  random.  By  the  very 
constitution  of  our  being  we  seem  practically  driven 
to  assume  a  real  world  in  correspondence  with  our 
ordinary  judgments  of  perception.  A  harmony  of 
some  kind  between  our  inner  selves  and  the  universe 
of  which  we  form  a  part  is  thus  the  tacit  postulate 


256  THE   GROUNDWORK 

at  the  root  of  every  belief  we  entertain  about  '  phe- 
nomena '  ;  and  all  that  I  now  contend  for  is,  that  a 
like  harmony  should  provisionally  be  assumed  be- 
tween that  universe  and  other  elements  in  our  nat- 
ure which  are  of  a  later,  of  a  more  uncertain,  but  of 
no  ignobler,  growth. 

Whether  this  correspondence  is  best  described 
as  that  which  obtains  between  a  '  need  '  and  its  '  sat- 
isfaction,' may  be  open  to  question.  But,  at  all 
events,  let  it  be  understood  that  if  the  relation  so 
described  is,  on  the  one  side,  something  different 
from  that  between  a  premise  and  its  conclusion,  so, 
on  the  other,  it  is  intended  to  be  equally  remote  from 
that  between  a  desire  and  its  fulfilment.  That  it  has 
not  the  logical  validity  of  the  first  I  have  already 
admitted,  or  rather  asserted.  That  it  has  not  the 
casual,  wavering,  and  purely  'subjective  '  character 
of  the  second  is  not  less  true.  For  the  correspond- 
ence postulated  is  not  between  the  fleeting  fancies 
of  the  individual  and  the  immutable  verities  of  an 
unseen  world,  but  between  these  characteristics  of 
our  nature,  which  we  recognise  as  that  in  us  which, 
though  not  necessarily  the  strongest,  is  the  highest ; 
which,  though  not  always  the  most  universal,  is 
nevertheless  the  best. 

But  because  this  theory  may  seem  alike  remote 
from  familiar  forms  both  of  dogmatism  and  scepti- 
cism, and  because  I  am  on  that  account  the  more 
anxious  that  no  unmerited  plausibility  should  be  at- 
tributed to  it  through  any  obscurity  in  my  way  of 


THE   GROUNDWORK  257 

presenting  it,  let  me  draw  out,  even  at  the  cost  of 
siMiie  repetition,  a  brief  catalogue  of  certain  things 
which  may,  and  of  certain  other  things  which  may 
not,  be  legitimately  said  concerning  it. 

We  may  say  of  it,  then,  that  it  furnishes  us  with 
no  adequate  philosophy  of  religion.  But  we  may 
not  say  of  it  that  it  leaves  religion  worse,  or,  indeed, 
otherwise  provided  for  in  this  respect  than  science. 

We  may  say  of  it  that  it  assumes  without  proof 
a  certain  consonance  between  the  '  subjective  '  and 
the  '  objective '  ;  between  what  we  are  moved  to 
believe  and  what  in  fact  is.  We  may  not  say  that 
the  presuppositions  of  science  depend  upon  any 
more  solid,  or,  indeed,  upon  any  different,  founda- 
tion. 

We  may  say  of  it,  if  we  please,  that  it  gives  us  a 
practical,  but  not  a  theoretic,  assurance  of  the 
truths  with  which  it  is  concerned.  But,  if  so,  we 
must  describe  in  the  same  technical  language  our 
assurance  respecting  the  truths  of  the  material 
world. 

We  may  say  of  it  that  it  accepts  provisionally 
the  theory,  based  on  scientific  methods,  which 
traces  back  the  origin  of  all  beliefs  to  causes  which, 
for  the  most  part,  are  non-rational,  and  which  carry 
with  them  no  warranty  that  they  will  issue  in  right 
opinion.  But  we  may  not  say  of  it  that  the  distinc- 
tion thus  drawn  between  the  non-rati(jnal  causes 
whicli  produce  tlie  immediate  judgments  of  sense- 
perception,  and  those  which  produce  judgments  in 
17 


258  THE   GROUNDWORK 

the  sphere  of  ethics  or  theology,  imply  any  superior 
certitude  in  the  case  of  the  former. 

We  may  say  of  it  that  it  admits  judgments  of 
sense-perception  to  be  the  most  inevitable,  but  denies 
them  to  be  the  most  worthy. 

We  may  say  of  it  generally,  that  as  it  assumes 
the  Whole,  of  which  we  desire  a  reasoned  knowl- 
edge, to  include  human  consciousness  as  an  element, 
it  refuses  to  regard  any  system  which,  like  Natural- 
ism, leaves  large  tracts  and  aspects  of  that  con- 
sciousness unaccounted  for  and  derelict  as  other 
than,  to  that  extent,  at  least,  irrational ;  and  that  it 
utterly  declines  to  circumscribe  the  Knowable  by 
frontiers  whose  delimitation  Reason  itself  assures 
us  can  be  justified  on  no  rational  principle  whatso- 
ever. 


CHAPTER  II 

BELIEFS  AND   FORMULAS 


After  these  hints  towards  the  formation  of  a  pro- 
visional philosophy,  it  may  perhaps  be  convenient, 
before  proceeding  to  say  what  remains  to  be  said  on 
the  character  of  the  beliefs  for  which  it  may  provide 
a  foundation,  to  interpolate  some  observations  on  the 
formal  side  of  their  historical  development,  which 
will  not  only  serve,  I  hope,  to  make  clearer  the 
general  scheme  here  advocated,  but  may  help 
to  solve  certain  difficulties  which  have  sometimes 
been  felt  in  the  interpretation  of  theological  and  ec- 
clesiastical history. 

Assuming,  as  we  do,  that  Knowledge  exists,  we 
can  hardly  do  otherwise  than  make  the  further  as- 
sumption that  it  has  grown  and  must  yet  further 
grow.  In  what  manner,  then,  has  that  growth  been 
accomplished  ?  What  are  the  external  signs  of  its 
successive  stages,  the  marks  of  its  gradual  evolution? 
One,  at  least,  must  strike  all  who  have  surveyed, 
even  with  a  careless  eye,  the  course  of  human  specu- 
lation—  1  mean  the  recurring  ])r()cess  by  which  the 
explanations    or  explanatory    formulas   in    terms  t)f 


26o  BELIEFS   AND   FORMULAS 

which  mankind  endeavour  to  comprehend  the  uni- 
verse are  formed,  are  shattered,  and  then  in  some 
new  shape  are  formed  again.  It  is  not,  as  we  some- 
times represent  it,  by  the  steady  addition  of  tier  to 
tier  that  the  fabric  of  knowledge  uprises  from  its 
foundation.  It  is  not  by  mere  accumulation  of 
material,  nor  even  by  a  plant-like  development,  that 
our  beliefs  grow  less  inadequate  to  the  truths  which 
they  strive  to  represent.  Rather  are  we  like  one 
who  is  perpetually  engaged  in  altering  some  ancient 
dwelling  in  order  to  satisfy  new-born  needs.  The 
ground-plan  of  it  is  being  perpetually  modified.  We 
build  here  ;  we  pull  down  there.  One  part  is  kept 
in  repair,  another  part  is  suffered  to  decay.  And 
even  those  portions  of  the  structure  which  may  in 
themselves  appear  quite  unchanged,  stand  in  such 
new  relations  to  the  rest,  and  are  put  to  such  differ- 
ent uses,  that  they  would  scarce  be  recognised  by 
their  original  designer. 

Yet  even  this  metaphor  is  inadequate,  and  per- 
haps misleading.  We  shall  more  accurately  conceive 
the  true  history  of  knowledge  if  we  represent  it  under 
the  similitude  of  a  plastic  body  whose  shape  and  size 
are  in  constant  process  of  alteration  through  the 
operation  both  of  external  and  of  internal  forces.  The 
internal  forces  are  those  of  reason.  The  external 
forces  correspond  to  those  non-rational  causes  on 
whose  importance  I  have  already  dwelt.  Each  of 
these  agencies  may  be  supposed  to  act  both  by  way 
of  destruction  and  ol  addition.     By  their  joint  oper- 


BELIEFS   AND   FORMULAS  26 1 

ation  new  material  is  deposited  at  one  point,  old 
material  is  eroded  at  another ;  and  the  whole  mass, 
whose  balance  has  been  thus  disturbed,  is  constantly 
changing  its  configuration  and  settling  towards  a 
new  position  of  equilibrium,  which  it  may  approach, 
but  can  never  quite  attain. 

We  must  not,  however,  regard  this  body  of  be- 
liefs as  being  equally  mobile  in  all  its  parts.  Certain 
elements  in  it  have  the  power  of  conferring  on  the 
whole  something  in  the  nature  of  a  definite  struct- 
ure. These  are  known  as  '  theories,'  '  hypotheses,' 
'generalisations,'  and  'explanatory  formulas'  in  gen- 
eral. They  represent  beliefs  by  which  other  beliefs 
are  co-ordinated.  They  supply  the  framework  in 
which  the  rest  of  knowledge  is  arranged.  Their 
right  construction  is  the  noblest  work  of  reason  ;  and 
without  their  aid  reason,  if  it  could  be  exercised  at 
all,  would  itself  be  driven  from  particular  to  particu- 
lar in  helpless  bewilderment. 

Now  the  action  and  reaction  between  these  for- 
mulas and  their  contents  is  the  most  salient,  and  in 
some  respects  the  most  interesting,  fact  in  the  his- 
tory of  thought.  Called  into  being,  for  the  most  part, 
to  justify,  or  at  least  to  organise,  pre-existing  beliefs, 
they  can  seldom  perform  their  office  without  modi- 
fying part,  at  least,  of  their  material.  While  they 
give  precision  to  what  would  otherwise  be  indeter- 
minate, and  a  relative  permanence  to  what  would  oth- 
erwise be  in  a  state  of  flux,  they  do  so  at  the  cost  of 
some  occasional  violence  to  the  beliefs  with  which 


262  BELIEFS   AND    FORMULAS 

they  deal.  Some  of  these  are  distorted  to  make 
them  fit  into  their  predestined  niche.  Others,  more 
refractory,  are  destroyed  or  ignored.  Even  in  sci- 
ence, where  the  beliefs  that  have  to  be  accounted  for 
have  often  a  native  vigour  born  of  the  imperious 
needs  of  sense-perception,  we  are  sometimes  dis- 
posed to  see,  not  so  much  what  is  visible,  as  what 
theory  informs  us  ought  to  be  seen.  While  in  the 
region  of  aesthetic  (to  take  another  example),  where 
belief  is  of  feebler  growth,  the  inclination  to  admire 
what  squares  with  some  current  theory  of  the  beau- 
tiful, rather  than  with  what  appeals  to  any  real  feel- 
ing for  beauty,  is  so  common  that  it  has  ceased  even 
to  amuse. 

But  this  reaction  of  formulas  on  the  beliefs  which 
they  co-ordinate  or  explain  is  but  the  first  stage  in 
the  process  we  are  describing.  The  next  is  the 
change,  perhaps  even  the  destruction,  of  the  for- 
mula itself  by  the  victorious  forces  that  it  has  pre- 
viously held  in  check.  The  plastic  body  of  belief, 
or  some  portion  of  it,  under  the  growing  stress  of 
external  and  internal  influences,  breaks  through,  it 
may  be  with  destructive  violence,  the  barriers  by 
which  it  was  at  one  time  controlled.  A  new  theory 
has  to  be  formed,  a  new  arrangement  of  knowl- 
edge has  to  be  accepted,  and  under  changed  con- 
ditions the  same  cycle  of  not  unfruitful  changes 
begins  again. 

I  do  not  know  that  any  illustration  of  this  famil- 
iar process  is  required,  for  in  truth  such  examples 


BELIEFS   AND    FORMULAS  263 

are  abundant  in  ever}^  department  of  Knowledge. 
As  chalk  consists  of  little  else  but  the  remains  of 
dead  animalculee,  so  the  history  of  thought  consists 
of  little  else  but  an  accumulation  of  abandoned  ex- 
planations. In  that  vast  cemetery  every  thrust  of  the 
shovel  turns  up  some  bone  that  once  formed  part  of 
a  living  theory  ;  and  the  biography  of  most  of  these 
theories  would,  I  think,  confirm  the  general  account 
which  I  have  given  of  their  birth,  maturity,  and 
decay. 


II 


Now  we  may  well  suppose  that  under  existing 
circumstances  death  is  as  necessary  in  the  intellect- 
ual world  as  it  is  in  the  organic.  It  may  not  always 
result  in  progress,  but  without  it,  doubtless,  prog- 
ress would  be  impossible ;  and  if,  therefore,  the 
constant  substitution  of  one  explanation  for  another 
could  be  effected  smoothly,  and  as  it  were  in  silence, 
without  disturbing  anything  beyond  the  explana- 
tions themselves,  it  need  cause  in  general  neither 
anxiety  nor  regret.  But,  unfortunately,  in  the  case 
of  Theology,  this  is  not  always  the  way  things  hap- 
pen. There,  as  elsewhere,  theories  arise,  have  their 
day,  and  fall ;  but  there,  far  more  than  elsewhere,  do 
these  theories  in  their  fall  endanger  other  interests 
than  their  own.  More  than  one  reason  may  be  given 
for  this  difference.  To  begin  with,  in  Science  the 
beliefs  of  sense-perception,  which,  as  I  have  implied, 


264  BELIEFS   AND    FORMULAS 

are  commonly  vigorous  enough  to  resist  the  warp- 
ing effect  of  theory,  even  when  the  latter  is  in  its 
full  strength,  are  not  imperilled  by  its  decay.  They 
provide  a  solid  nucleus  of  unalterable  conviction, 
which  survives  uninjured  through  all  the  mutations 
of  intellectual  fashion.  We  do  not  require  the  as- 
sistance of  hypotheses  to  sustain  our  faith  in  what 
we  see  and  hear.  Speaking  broadly,  that  faith  is 
unalterable  and  self-sufficient. 

Theology  is  less  happily  situated.  There  it  often 
happens  that  when  a  theory  decays,  the  beliefs  to 
which  it  refers  are  infected  by  a  contagious  weak- 
ness. The  explanation  and  the  thing  explained  are 
mutually  dependent.  They  are  animated  as  it  were 
with  a  common  life,  and  there  is  always  a  danger 
lest  they  should  be  overtaken  by  a  common  de- 
struction. 

Consider  this  difference  between  Science  and 
Theology  in  the  light  of  the  following  illustration. 
The  whole  instructed  world  were  quite  recently 
agreed  that  heat  was  a  form  of  matter.  With  equal 
unanimity  they  now  hold  that  it  is  a  mode  of  motion. 
These  opinions  are  not  only  absolutely  inconsistent, 
but  the  change  from  one  to  the  other  is  revolution- 
ary, and  involves  the  profoundest  modiiication  of 
our  general  views  of  the  material  world.  Yet  no 
one's  confidence  in  the  existence  of  some  quality  in 
things  by  which  his  sensations  of  warmth  are  pro- 
duced is  thereby  disturbed  ;  and  we  may  hold  either 
of  these  theories,  or  both  of  them  in  turn,  or  no 


BELIEFS   AND    FORMULAS  265 

theory  at  all,  without  endangering  the  stability  of 
our  scientific  faith. 

Compare  with  this  example  drawn  from  physics 
one  of  a  very  different  kind  drawn  from  theology. 
If  there  be  a  spiritual  experience  to  which  the  his- 
tory of  religion  bears  witness,  it  is  that  of  Recon- 
ciliation with  God.  If  there  be  an  'objective'  cause 
to  which  the  feeling  is  confidently  referred,  it  is  to 
be  found  in  the  central  facts  of  the  Christian  story. 
Now,  incommensurable  as  the  subject  is  with  that 
touched  on  in  the  last  paragraph,  they  resemble 
each  other  at  least  in  this — that  both  have  been  the 
theme  of  much  speculation,  and  that  the  accounts 
of  them  which  have  satisfied  one  generation,  to  an- 
other have  seemed  profitless  and  empty.  But  there 
the  likeness  ends.  In  the  physical  case,  the  feeling 
of  heat  and  the  inward  assurance  that  it  is  really 
connected  with  some  quality  in  the  external  body 
from  which  we  suppose  ourselves  to  derive  it,  sur- 
vive every  changing  speculation  as  to  the  nature  of 
that  quality  and  the  mode  of  its  operation.  In  the 
spiritual  case,  the  sense  of  Reconciliati(jn  connected 
by  the  Christian  conscience  with  the  life  and  death 
of  Christ  seems  in  many  cases  to  be  bound  up  with 
the  explanations  of  the  mystery  which  from  time  to 
time  have  been  hazarded  by  theological  theorists. 
And  as  these  explanations  have  fallen  out  of  favour, 
the  truth  to  be  explained  has  too  often  been  aban- 
doned also. 

This  is  not  the  place  to  press  the  subject  f  nil  her; 


266  BELIEFS   AND    FORMULAS 

and  I  have  neither  the  right  in  these  Notes  to  as- 
sume the  truth  of  particular  theological  doctrines, 
nor  is  it  my  business  to  attempt  to  prove  them.  But 
this  much  more  I  may  perhaps  be  allowed  to  say  by 
way  of  parenthesis.  If  the  point  of  view  which  this 
Essay  is  intended  to  recommend  be  accepted,  the 
precedent  set,  in  the  first  of  the  above  examples,  by 
science  is  the  one  which  ought  to  be  followed  by 
theology.  No  doubt,  when  a  belief  is  only  accepted 
as  the  conclusion  of  some  definite  inferential  process, 
with  that  process  it  must  stand  or  fall.  If,  for  in- 
stance, we  believe  that  there  is  hydrogen  in  the  sun, 
solely  because  that  conclusion  is  forced  upon  us  by 
certain  arguments  based  upon  spectroscopic  obser- 
vations, then,  if  these  arguments  should  ever  be  dis- 
credited, the  belief  in  solar  hydrogen  would,  as  a 
necessary  consequence,  be  shaken  or  destroyed. 
But  in  cases  where  the  belief  is  rather  the  occasion 
of  an  hypothesis  than  a  conclusion  from  it,  the  de- 
struction of  the  hypothesis  may  be  a  reason  for  de- 
vising a  new  one,  but  is  certainly  no  reason  for  aban- 
doninof  the  belief.  Nor  in  science  do  we  ever  take 
any  other  view.  We  do  not,  for  example,  step  over 
a  precipice  because  we  are  dissatisfied  with  all  the 
attempts  to  account  for  gravitation.  In  theology, 
however,  experience  does  sometimes  lean  too  timidly 
on  theory,  and  when  in  the  course  of  time  theory 
decays,  it  drags  down  experience  in  its  fall.  How 
many  persons  are  there,  for  example,  who,  because 
they  dislike  the  theories  of  Atonement  propounded. 


BELIEFS   AND   FORMULAS  267 

sa}',  bv  Anselm,  or  by  Grotius,  or  the  versions  of 
these  which  have  imbedded  themselves  in  the  de- 
votional literature  of  Western  Europe,  feel  bound 
'  in  reason '  to  give  up  the  doctrine  itself?  Because 
they  cannot  compress  within  the  rigid  limits  of 
some  semi-legal  formula  a  mystery  which,  unless  it 
were  too  vast  for  our  full  intellectfial  comprehen- 
sion, would  surely  be  too  narrow  for  our  spiritual 
needs,  the  mystery  itself  is  to  be  rejected  !  Because 
they  cannot  contrive  to  their  satisfaction  a  system 
of  theological  jurisprudence  which  shall  include  Re- 
demption as  a  leading  case.  Redemption  is  no  longer 
to  be  counted  among  the  consolations  of  mankind ! 


Ill 

There  is,  however,  another  reason  beyond  the 
natural  strength  of  the  judgments  due  to  sense-per- 
ception which  tends  to  make  the  change  or  abandon- 
ment of  explanatory  formulas  a  smoother  operation 
in  science  than  it  is  in  theology;  and  this  reason  is 
to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  Religion  works,  and,  to 
})roduce  its  full  results,  must  needs  work,  through 
the  agency  of  organised  societies.  It  has,  therefore, 
a  social  side,  and  from  this  its  speculative  side 
cannot,  I  believe,  be  kept  wholly  distinct.  For  al- 
tliough  feeling  is  the  effectual  bond  of  all  societies, 
these  feelings  themselves,  it  would  seem,  cannot  be 
properly  developed  without  the  aid  of  something 
which  is,  or   which  docs   duty  as,  a  reason.     They 


268  BELIEFS   AND   FORMULAS 

require  some  alien  material  on  which,  so  to  speak, 
they  may  be  precipitated  ;  round  which  they  may 
crystallise  and  coalesce.  In  the  case  of  political 
societies  this  reason  is  founded  on  identity  of  race, 
of  language,  of  country,  or  even  of  mere  material 
interest.  But  when  the  religious  society  and  the 
political  are  not,  as  in  primitive  times,  based  on  a 
common  ground,  the  desired  reason  can  scarcely 
be  looked  for  elsewhere,  and,  in  fact,  never  is 
looked  for  elsewhere,  than  in  the  acceptance  of  com- 
mon religious  formulas.  Whence  it  comes  about 
that  these  formulas  have  to  fulfil  two  functions 
which  are  not  mereJy  distinct  but  incomparable. 
They  are  both  a  statement  of  theological  conclu- 
sions and  the  symbols  of  a  corporate  unity.  They 
represent  at  once  the  endeavour  to  systematise  re- 
ligious truth  and  to  organise  religious  associations  ; 
and  they  are  therefore  subject  to  two  kinds  of 
influence,  and  involve  two  kinds  of  obligation, 
which,  though  seldom  distinguished,  are  never 
identical,  and  may  sometimes  even  be  opposed. 

The  distinction  is  a  simple  one  ;  but  the  refusal 
to  recognise  it  has  been  prolific  in  embarrassments, 
both  for  those  who  have  assumed  the  duty  of  con- 
triving symbols,  and  for  those  on  whom  has  fallen 
the  burden  of  interpreting  them.  The  rage  for  de- 
fining *  which  seized  so  large  a  portion  of  Christen- 
dom, both  Roman  and  non-Roman,  during  the  Ref- 
ormation troubles,  and  the  fixed    determination  to 

'  Cf.  Note  at  end  of  next  chapter. 


BELIEFS   AND   FORMULAS  269 

turn  the  definitions,  when  made,  into  impassable 
barriers  between  hostile  ecclesiastical  divisions,  are 
among  the  most  obvious,  but  not,  I  think,  among 
the  most  satisfactory,  facts  in  modern  religious  his- 
tor}'.  To  the  definitions  taken  simply  as  well-in- 
tentioned efforts  to  make  clear  that  which  was  ob- 
scure, and  systematic  that  which  was  confused,  I 
raise  no  objections.  Of  the  practical  necessity  for 
some  formal  basis  of  Christian  co-operation  I  am,  as 
I  have  said,  most  firmly  convinced.  But  not  every 
formula  which  represents  even  the  best  theological 
opinion  of  its  age  is  therefore  fitted  to  unite  men 
for  all  time  in  the  furtherance  of  common  religious 
objects,  or  in  the  support  of  common  religious  in- 
stitutions ;  and  the  error  committed  in  this  con- 
nection by  the  divines  of  the  Reformation,  and  the 
counter-Reformation,  largely  consisted  in  the  mista- 
ken supposition  that  symbols  and  decrees,  in  whose 
very  elaboration  could  be  read  the  sure  prophecy 
of  decay,  were  capable  of  providing  a  convenient 
framework  for  a  perpetual  organisation. 

It  is,  however,  beyond  the  scope  of  these  Notes 
to  discuss  the  dangers  which  the  inevitable  use  of 
theological  formulas  as  the  groundwork  of  ecclesi- 
astical co-operation  may  have  upon  Christian  unity, 
imptjrtant  and  interesting  as  the  subject  is.  I  am 
properly  concerned  solely  with  the  other  side  of 
the  same  shield,  namely,  the  dangers  with  which 
this  inevitable  combination  of  theory  and  practice 
may  threaten  the  smooth  development  of  religious 


270  BELIEFS   AND   FORMULAS 

beliefs — dangers  which  do  not  follow  in  the  parallel 
case  of  science,  where  no  such  combination  is  to  be 
found.  The  doctrines  of  science  have  not  got  to  be 
discussed  amid  the  confusion  and  clamour  of  the 
market-place ;  they  stir  neither  hate  nor  love ;  the 
fortunes  of  no  living  polity  are  bound  up  with  them  ; 
nor  is  there  any  danger  lest  they  become  petrified 
into  party  watchwords.  Theology  is  differently 
situated.  There  the  explanatory  formula  may  be 
so  historically  intertwined  with  the  sentiments  and 
traditions  of  the  ecclesiastical  organisation ;  the 
heat  and  pressure  of  ancient  conflicts  may  have  so 
welded  them  together,  that  to  modify  one  and  leave 
the  other  untouched  seems  well-nigh  impossible. 
Yet  even  in  such  cases  it  is  interesting  to  note  how 
unexpectedly  the  most  difficult  adjustments  are 
sometimes  effected  ;  how,  partly  by  the  conscious, 
and  still  more  by  the  unconscious,  wisdom  of  man- 
kind ;  by  a  little  kindly  forgetfulness  ;  by  a  few 
happy  inconsistencies ;  by  methods  which  might 
not  always  bear  the  scrutiny  of  the  logician,  though 
they  may  well  be  condoned  by  the  philosopher,  the 
changes  required  by  the  general  movement  of  belief 
are  made  with  less  friction  and  at  a  smaller  cost — 
even  to  the  enlightened — than  might,  perhaps,  ante- 
cedently have  been  imagined. 


CHAPTER  III 

BELIEFS,   FORMULAS,  AND   REALITIES 


The  road  which  theological  thought  is  thus  com- 
pelled to  travel  would,  however,  be  rougher  even  than 
it  is  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  large  changes  and 
adaptations  of  belief  are  possible  within  the  limits  of 
the  same  unchanging  formulas.  This  is  a  fact  to 
which  it  has  not  been  necessar}'  hitherto  to  call  the 
reader's  attention.  It  has  been  far  more  convenient, 
and  so  far  not,  I  think,  misleading,  to  follow  familiar 
usage,  and  to  assume  that  identity  of  statement  in- 
volves identity  of  belief ;  that  when  persons  make  the 
same  assertions  in  good  faith  they  mean  the  same 
thins:.  But  this  on  closer  examination  is  seen  not  to 
be  the  case.  In  all  branches  of  knowledge  abundant 
examples  are  to  be  discovered  f)f  statements  which 
do  not  fall  into  the  cycle  of  change  described  in  the 
last  section,  which  no  lapse  of  time  nor  growth  of 
learning  would  apparently  require  us  to  revise.  But 
in  every  case  it  will,  I  think,  be  found  that,  with  the 
doubtful  exception  of  purely  abstract  ])ro])ositi()ns, 
these  statements,  themselves  unmoved,  represent  a 
moving  body  of  belief,  varying  from  one  period  of 


272  BELIEFS,    FORMULAS,    AND    REALITIES 

life  to  another,  from  individual  to  individual,  and 
from  generation  to  generation. 

Take  an  example  at  random.  1  suppose  that  the 
world,  so  long  as  it  thinks  it  worth  while  to  have  an 
opinion  at  all  upon  the  subject,  will  continue  to  accept 
without  amendment  the  assertion  that  Julius  Caesar 
was  murdered  at  Rome  in  the  first  century  B.C.  But, 
are  we  therefore  to  suppose  that  this  proposition 
must  mean  the  same  thing  in  the  mouths  of  all  who 
use  it }  Surely  not  ?  Even  if  we  refuse  to  take 
account  of  the  associated  sentiments  which  give  a 
different  colour  in  each  man's  eyes  to  the  same  in- 
tellectual judgment,  we  cannot  ignore  the  varying 
positions  which  the  judgment  itself  may  hold  in  dif- 
ferent systems  of  belief.  It  is  surely  absurd  to  say 
that  a  statement  about  the  mode  and  time  of  Caesar's 
death  has  the  same  significance  for  the  schoolboy 
who  learns  it  as  a  line  in  a  incmoria  tec/mica,  and  the 
historian  (if  such  there  be)  to  whom  it  represents  a 
turning-point  in  the  history  of  the  world.  Nor  is  it 
possible  to  deny  that  any  alteration  in  our  views  on 
the  nature  of  Death,  or  on  the  nature  of  Man,  must 
necessarily  alter  the  import  of  a  proposition  which 
asserts  of  a  particular  man  that  he  suffered  a  par- 
ticular kind  of  death. 

This  may  perhaps  seem  to  be  an  unprofitable 
subtlety ;  and  so,  to  be  sure,  in  this  particular  case, 
it  is.  But  a  similar  reflection  is  of  obvious  impor- 
tance when  we  come  to  consider,  for  example,  such 
propositions  as  '  there  is  a  God,'  or  '  there  is  a  world 


BELIEFS,    FORMULAS,    AND    REALITIES  2/3 

of  material  things.'  Both  these  statements  might 
be,  and  are,  accepted  by  the  rudest  savage  and  by 
the  most  advanced  philosopher.  They  may,  so  far 
as  we  can  tell,  continue  to  be  accepted  b}-  men  in  all 
stages  of  culture  till  the  last  inhabitant  of  a  perishing 
world  is  frozen  into  unconsciousness.  Yet  plainly 
the  savage  and  the  philosopher  use  these  words  in 
very  different  meanings.  From  the  tribal  deity  of 
early  times  to  the  Christian  God,  or,  if  you  prefer  it, 
the  Hegelian  Absolute  ;  from  Matter  as  conceived 
by  primitive  man  to  Matter  as  it  is  conceived  by  the 
modern  physicist,  how  vast  the  interval !  The  for- 
mulas are  the  same,  the  beliefs  are  plainly  not  the 
same.  Nay,  so  wide  are  they  apart,  that  while  to 
those  who  hold  the  earlier  view  the  later  would  be 
quite  meaningless,  it  may  require  the  highest  effort 
of  sympathetic  imagination  for  those  whose  minds 
are  steeped  in  the  later  view  to  reconstruct,  even 
imperfectly,  the  substance  of  the  earlier.  The  civil- 
ised man  cannot  fully  understand  the  savage,  nor 
the  ofrown  man  the  child. 


II 

Now  a  question  of  some  interest  is  suggested  by 
this  reflection.  Can  we,  in  the  face  of  the  wide  di- 
vergence of  meaning  frequently  conveyed  by  the 
same  formula  at  different  times,  assert  that  what  en- 
dures in  such  cases  is  anything  more  than  a  mere 
husk  or  shell  ?  Is  it  more  than  the  mould  into  which 
i8 


2/4  BELIEFS,    FORMULAS,    AND    REALITIES 

any  metal,  base  or  precious,  may  be  poured  at  will  ? 
Does  identity  of  expression  imply  anything  which 
deserves  to  be  described  as  community  of  belief? 
Are  we  here  dealing  with  things,  or  only  with  words? 
In  order  to  answer  this  question  we  must  have 
some  idea,  in  the  first  place,  of  the  relation  of  Lan- 
guage to  Belief,  and,  in  the  second  place,  of  the  re- 
lation of  Belief  to  Reality.  That  the  relation  be- 
tween the  first  of  these  pairs  is  of  no  very  precise 
or  definite  kind  I  have  already  indicated.  And  the 
fact  is  so  obvious  that  it  would  hardly  be  worth 
while  to  insist  on  it  were  it  not  that  Formal  Losric 
and  conventional  usage  both  proceed  on  exactly  the 
opposite  supposition.  They  assume  a  constant  rela- 
tion between  the  symbol  and  the  thing  symbolised; 
and  they  consider  that  so  long  as  a  word  is  used  (as 
the  phrase  is)  '  in  the  same  sense,'  it  corresponds,  or 
ought  to  correspond,  to  the  same  thought.  But  this 
is  an  artificial  simplification  of  the  facts ;  a  conven- 
tion, most  convenient  for  certain  purposes,  but  sel- 
dom or  never  observed  when  we  are  expressing 
opinions  about  concrete  realities.  If  in  the  sweat  of 
our  brow  we  can  secure  that  inevitable  differences 
of  meaning  do  not  vitiate  the  particular  argument 
in  hand,  we  have  done  all  that  logic  requires,  and  all 
that  lies  in  us  to  accomplish.  Not  only  would  more 
be  impossible,  but  more  would  most  certainly  be  un- 
desirable. Incessant  variation  in  the  uses  to  which 
we  put  the  same  expression  is  absolutely  necessary 
if  the  complexity  of  the  Universe  is,  even  in  the 


BELIEFS,    FORMULAS,    AND    REALITIES  275 

most  imperfect  fashion,  to  find  a  response  in  thought. 
If  terms  were  counters,  each  purporting  always  to 
represent  the  whole  of  one  unalterable  aspect  of 
realit}',  language  would  become,  not  the  servant  of 
thought,  nor  even  its  ally,  but  its  tyrant.  The  wealth 
of  our  ideas  would  be  limited  by  the  poverty  of  our 
vocabulary.  Science  could  not  flourish,  nor  Litera- 
ture exist.  All  play  of  mind,  all  variety,  all  devel- 
opment would  perish ;  and  mankind  would  spend  its 
energies,  not  in  using  words,  but  in  endeavouring  to 
define  them. 

It  was  this  logical  nightmare  which  oppressed 
the  intellect  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  schoolmen 
have  been  attacked  for  not  occupying  themselves 
with  experimental  observation,  which,  after  all,  was 
no  particular  business  of  theirs;  for  indulging  in 
excessive  subtleties — surely  no  great  crime  in  a 
metaphysician ;  and  for  endeavouring  to  combine 
the  philosophy  and  the  theology  of  their  day  into  a 
coherent  whole — an  attempt  which  seems  to  me  to 
be  entirely  praiseworthy.  A  better  reason  for  their 
not  having  accomplished  the  full  promise  of  their 
genius  is  to  be  found  in  the  assumption  which  lies 
at  the  root  of  their  interminable  deductions,  namely, 
that  language  is,  or  can  be  made,  what  logic  by  a 
convenient  convention  supposes  it  to  be,  and  that  if 
it  were  so  made,  it  would  be  an  instrument  better 
fitted  on  that  account  to  deal  with  the  infinite  vari- 
ety of  the  actual  world. 


2/6  BELIEFS,    FORMULAS,   AND   REALITIES 


III 


If  language,  from  the  very  nature  of  the  case, 
hangs  thus  loosely  to  the  belief  which  it  endeavours 
to  express,  how  closely  does  the  belief  fit  to   the 
reality  with  which  it  is  intended  to  correspond  ?    To 
hear  some  persons  talk  one   would  really  suppose 
that  the  enlightened   portion  of  mankind,  i.e.  those 
who  happen  to  agree  with  them,  were  blessed  with 
a  precise  knowledge  respecting  large  tracts  of  the 
Universe.     They  are  ready  on  small  provocation  to 
embody  their  beliefs,  whether  scientific  or  theologi- 
cal, in  a  series  of   dogmatic  statements  which,  as 
they  will  tell  you,  accurately  express  their  own  ac- 
curate opinions,  and  between  which  and  any  differing 
statements  on  the  same  subject  is  fixed  that  great 
gulf  which  divides  for   ever   the  realms  of   Truth 
from  those  of  Error.    Now  I  would  venture  to  warn 
the  reader  against  paying  any  undue  meed  of  rever- 
ence to  the  axiom  on  which  this  view  essentially  de- 
pends, the  axiom,  I  mean,  that  'every  belief  must  be 
either  true  or  not  true.'    It  is,  of  course,  indisputable. 
But  it  is  also  unimportant ;  and  it  is  unimportant  for 
this  reason,  that  if  we  insist  on  assigning  every  be- 
lief to  one  or  other  of  these  two  mutually  exclusive 
classes,  it  will  be  found  that  most,  if  not  all,  the  posi- 
tive beliefs  which   deal  with   concrete  reality — the 
very  beliefs,  in  short,  about  which  a  reasonable  man 
may   be  expected   principally  to  interest   himself— 


BELIEFS,    FORMULAS,    AND    REALITIES  2// 

would  ill  strictness  have  to  be  classed  among  the 
'  not  true.'  I  do  not  say,  be  it  observed,  that  all 
propositions  about  the  concrete  world  must  needs 
be  erroneous ;  for,  as  we  have  seen,  every  proposi- 
tion provides  the  fitting  verbal  expression  for  many 
different  beliefs,  and  of  these  it  may  be  that  one  ex- 
presses the  full  truth.  My  contention  merely  is,  that 
inasmuch  as  any  fragmentary  presentation  of  a  con- 
crete whole  must,  because  it  is  fragmentary,  be 
therefore  erroneous,  the  full  complexity  of  any  true 
belief  about  reality  will  necessarily  transcend  the 
comprehension  of  any  finite  intelligence.  We  know 
only  in  part,  and  we  therefore  know  wrongly. 

But  it  may  perhaps  be  said  that  observations  like 
these  involve  a  confusion  between  the  '  not  true ' 
and  the  '  incomplete.'  A  belief,  as  the  phrase  is, 
may  be  '  true  so  far  as  it  goes,'  even  though  it  does 
not  go  far  enough.  It  may  contain  the  truth  and 
nothing  but  the  truth,  but  not  the  whole  truth.  Why 
should  it  under  such  circumstances  receive  so  severe 
a  condemnation  ?  Why  is  it  to  be  branded,  not  only 
as  inadequate,  but  as  erroneous?  To  this  I  reply 
that  the  division  of  beliefs  into  the  True,  the  Incom- 
plete, and  the  Wholly  False  may  be,  and  for  many 
I)urposes  is,  a  very  convenient  one.  But  in  the  first 
place  it  is  not  philosophically  accurate,  since  that 
which  is  incomplete  is  touched  throughout  with 
some  element  of  falsity.  And  in  the  second  place  it 
does  not  happen  to  be  the  division  on  which  we  are 
engaged.     We  are  dealing  with  the  logical  contra- 


2/8  BELIEFS,    FORMULAS,    AND    REALITIES 

dictories  '  True  '  and  '  Not  True.'  And  what  makes 
it  worth  while  dealing  with  them  is,  that  the  partic- 
ular classification  of  beliefs  which  they  suggest  lies 
at  the  root  of  much  needless  controversy  in  all 
branches  of  knowledge,  and  not  least  in  theology  ; 
and  that  everywhere  it  has  produced  some  confusion 
of  thought  and,  it  may  be,  some  defect  of  charity. 
It  is  not  in  human  nature  that  those  who  start  from 
the  assumption  that  all  opinions  are  either  true  or 
not  true,  should  do  otherwise  than  take  for  granted 
that  their  own  particular  opinions  belong  to  the 
former  category  ;  and  that  therefore  all  inconsistent 
opinions  held  by  other  people  must  belong  to  the 
latter.  Now  this,  in  the  current  affairs  of  life,  and 
in  the  ordinary  commerce  between  man  and  man,  is 
not  merely  a  pardonable  but  a  necessary  way  of  look- 
ing at  things.  But  it  is  foolish  and  even  dangerous 
when  we  are  engaged  on  the  deeper  problems  of 
science,  metaphysics,  or  theology ;  when  we  are 
endeavouring  in  solitude  to  take  stock  of  our  posi- 
tion in  the  presence  of  the  Infinite.  However  pro- 
found may  be  our  ignorance  of  our  ignorance,  at 
least  we  should  realise  that  to  describe  (when  using 
language  strictly)  any  scheme  of  belief  as  wholly 
false  which  has  even  imperfectly  met  the  needs  of 
mankind,  is  the  height  of  arrogance ;  and  that  to 
claim  for  any  beliefs  which  we  happen  to  approve 
that  they  are  wholly  true,  is  the  height  of  absurdity. 
Somewhat  more,  be  it  observed,  is  thus  required 
of   us  than   a   bare   confession   of   ignorance.     The 


BELIEFS,    FORMULAS,    AND    REALITIES  279 

least  modest  of  men  would  admit  without  difficulty 
that  there  are  a  great  man}'  things  which  he  does 
not  understand  ;  but  the  most  modest  may  perhaps 
be  willing  to  suppose  that  there  are  some  things 
which  he  does.  Yet  outside  the  relations  of  abstract 
propositions  (about  which  I  say  nothing)  this  cannot 
be  admitted.  Nowhere  else — neither  in  our  knowl- 
edge of  ourselves,  nor  in  our  knowledge  of  each 
other,  nor  in  our  knowledge  of  the  material  world, 
nor  in  our  knowledge  of  God,  is  there  any  belief 
which  is  more  than  an  approximation,  any  method 
which  is  free  from  flaw,  any  result  not  tainted  with 
error.  The  simplest  intuitions  and  the  remotest 
speculations  fall  under  the  same  condemnation. 
And  though  the  fact  is  apt  to  be  hidden  from  us 
by  the  unshrinking  definitions  with  which  alike  in 
science  and  theology  it  is  our  practice  to  register 
attained  results,  it  would,  as  we  have  seen,  be  a 
serious  mistake  to  suppose  that  any  complete  corre- 
spondence between  Belief  and  Reality  was  secured 
by  the  linguistic  precision  and  the  logical  impecca- 
bility of  the  propositions  by  which  beliefs  themselves 
are  communicated  and  recorded. 

To  some  persons  this  train  of  reflection  suggests 
nothing  but  sceptical  misgiving  and  intellectual 
dcsi)air.  To  me  it  seems,  on  the  other  hand,  to  save 
us  from  both.  What  kind  of  a  Universe  would  that 
be  which  we  could  understand?  if  it  were  intel- 
ligible (by  us),  would  it  be  credible?  If  our  reas(Mi 
could   ccjmprehend  it,  would  it  not  be  too  narrow 


28o  BELIEFS,   FORMULAS,    AND   REALITIES 

for  our  needs?  '  I  believe  because  it  is  impossible  ' 
may  be  a  pious  paradox,  '  I  disbelieve  because  it  is 
simple '  commends  itself  to  me  as  an  axiom.  An 
axiom  doubtless  to  be  used  with  discretion :  an 
axiom  which  may  easily  be  perverted  in  the  inter- 
ests of  idleness  and  superstition  ;  but  one,  neverthe- 
less, which  contains  a  valuable  truth  not  always 
remembered  by  those  who  make  especial  profession 
of  worldly  wisdom. 


IV 


However  this  may  be,  the  opinions  here  advo- 
cated may  help  us  to  solve  certain  difficulties  oc- 
casionally suggested  by  current  methods  of  dealing 
with  the  relation  between  Formulas  and  Beliefs.  It 
has  not  always,  for  instance,  been  found  easy  to 
reconcile  the  immutability  claimed  for  theological 
doctrines  with  the  movement  observed  in  theologi- 
cal ideas.  Neither  of  them  can  readily  be  aban- 
doned. The  conviction  that  there  are  Christian 
verities  which,  once  secured  for  the  human  race, 
cannot  by  any  lapse  of  time  be  rendered  obsolete 
is  one  which  no  Church  would  willingly  abandon. 
Yet  the  fact  that  theological  thought  follows  the 
laws  which  govern  the  evolution  of  all  other  thought, 
that  it  changes  from  age  to.  age,  largely  as  regards 
the  relative  emphasis  given  to  its  various  elements, 
not  inconsiderably  as  regards  the  substance  of  those 
elements  themselves,  is  a  fact  written  legibly  across 


BELIEFS,    FORMULAS,   AND    REALITIES  28 1 

the  pages  of  ecclesiastical  history.  How  is  this 
apparent  contradiction  to  be  accommodated  ? 

Consider  another  difficulty — one  quite  of  a  dif- 
ferent kind.  The  common  sense  of  mankind  has 
been  shocked  at  the  value  occasionally  attributed 
to  uniformity  of  theological  profession,  when  it  is 
perhaps  obvious  from  many  of  the  circumstances  of 
the  case  tl)at  this  carries  with  it  no  security  for  uni- 
formity of  inward  conviction.  There  is  an  unreal- 
ity, or  at  least  an  externality  about  such  professions 
which,  to  those  who  think  (rightly  enough)  that 
religion,  if  it  is  to  be  of  any  value,  must  come  from 
the  heart,  is  apt  not  unnaturally  to  be  repulsive. 
Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  but  a  shallow  form  of 
historical  criticism  which  shall  attribute  this  desire 
for  conformity  either  to  mere  impatience  of  ex- 
pressed differences  of  opinion  (no  doubt  a  powerful 
and  widely  distributed  motive),  or  to  the  perversi- 
ties of  Priestcraft.  What,  then,  is  the  view  which 
we  ought  to  take  of  it?  Is  it  good  or  bad?  and,  if 
good,  what  purpose  docs  it  serve  ? 

Now  these  questions  may  be  answered,  I  think, 
at  least  in  part,  if  we  keep  in  mind  two  distinc- 
tions on  which  in  this  and  the  preceding  chapter 
I  have  ventured  to  insist — the  distinctions,  I  mean, 
in  the  first  place,  between  the  function  of  formu- 
his  as  the  systematic  expression  of  religious  doc- 
liine,  and  their  function  as  the  basis  of  religious  co- 
operation; and  the  distinction,  in  the  second  place, 
between  the  accuracy  of  any  formula  and  the  real 


282  BELIEFS,   FORMULAS,   AND   REALITIES 

truth  of  the  various  beliefs  which  it  is  capable  of 
expressing. 

Uniformity  of  profession,  for  example,  to  take  the 
last  difficulty  first,  can  be  regarded  as  unimportant 
only  by  those  who  forget  that,  while  there  is  no 
necessary  connection  whatever  between  the  causes 
which  conduce  to  successful  co-operation  and  those 
which  conduce  to  the  attainment  of  speculative 
truth,  of  these  two  objects  the  first  may,  under 
certain  circumstances,  be  much  more  important  than 
the  second.  A  Church  is  something  more  than  a 
body  of  more  or  less  qualified  persons  engaged  more 
or  less  successfully  in  the  study  of  theology.  It 
requires  a  very  different  equipment  from  that  which 
is  sufficient  for  a  learned  society.  Something  more 
is  asked  of  it  than  independent  research.  It  is  an 
organisation  charged  with  a  great  practical  work. 
For  the  successful  promotion  of  this  work  unity,  dis- 
cipline, and  self-devotion  are  the  principal  requisites  ; 
and,  as  in  the  case  of  every  other  such  organisation, 
the  most  powerful  source  of  these  qualities  is  to  be 
found  in  the  feelings  aroused  by  common  memories, 
common  hopes,  common  loyalties;  by  professions 
in  which  all  agree ;  by  a  ceremonial  which  all  share ; 
by  customs  and  commands  which  all  obey.  He, 
therefore,  who  would  wish  to  expel  such  influences 
either  from  Church  or  State,  on  the  ground  that 
they  may  alter  (as  alter  they  most  certainly  will)  the 
opinions  which,  in  their  absence,  the  members  of 
the  community,  left  to  follow  at  will  their  own  spec- 


BELIEFS,    FORMULAS,    AND    REALITIES  283 

Illative  devices,  would  otlierwise  form,  may  know 
something  of  science  or  philosophy,  but  assuredly 
knows  very  little  of  human  nature. 

But  it  will  perhaps  be  said  that  co-operation,  if 
it  is  only  to  be  had  on  these  terms,  may  easily  be 
bought  too  dear.  So,  indeed,  it  may.  The  history 
of  the  Church  is  unhappily  there  to  prove  the  fact. 
But  as  this  is  true  of  religious  organisations,  so  also 
is  it  true  of  every  other  organisation — national,  po- 
litical, military,  what  you  will — by  which  the  work 
of  the  world  is  rendered  possible.  There  are  circum- 
stances which  may  make  schism  justifiable,  as  there 
are  circumstances  wliich  make  treason  justifiable,  or 
mutiny  justifiable.  But  without  going  into  the  ethics 
of  revolt,  without  endeavouring  to  determine  the 
exact  degree  of  error,  oppression,  or  crime  on  the 
part  of  those  who  stay  within  the  organisation  which 
ma}-  render  innocent  or  necessary  the  secession  of 
those  who  leave  it,  it  is,  in  my  judgment,  perfectly 
plain  that  something  very  different  is,  or  ought  to 
be,  involved  in  the  acceptance  or  rejection  of  com- 
mon formulas  than  an  announcement  to  the  world 
of  a  purely  speculative  agreement  respecting  the 
niceties  of  doctrinal  statement. 

This  view  may  perhaps  be  more  readily  accepted 
when  it  is  realised  that,  as  I  have  pointed  out,  no 
agreement  about  theological  or  any  other  doctrine 
insures,  or,  indeed,  is  capable  of  producing,  same- 
ness of  belief.  We  are  no  more  able  to  liclicve  what 
other  people  believe  than  to  feel  what  other  people 


284  BELIEFS,   FORMULAS,   AND    REALITIES 

feel.  Two  friends  read  together  the  same  descrip- 
tion of  a  landscape.  Does  anyone  suppose  that  it 
stirs  within  them  precisely  the  same  quality  of  sen- 
timent, or  evokes  precisely  the  same  subtle  associa- 
tions ?  And  yet,  if  this  be  impossible,  as  it  surely 
is,  even  in  the  case  of  friends  attuned,  so  far  as  may 
be,  to  the  same  emotional  key,  how  hopeless  must 
it  be  in  the  case  of  an  artist  and  a  rustic,  an  Ancient 
and  a  Modern,  an  Andaman  islander  and  a  European ! 
But  if  no  representation  of  the  splendours  of  Nature 
can  produce  in  us  any  perfect  identity  of  admiration, 
why  expect  the  definitions  of  theology  or  science  to 
produce  in  us  any  perfect  identity  of  belief?  It  may 
not  be.  This  uniformity  of  conviction  which  so 
many  have  striven  to  attain  for  themselves,  and  to 
impose  upon  their  fellows,  is  an  unsubstantial  phan- 
tasm, born  of  a  confusion  between  language  and  the 
thought  which  language  so  imperfectly  expresses. 
In  this  world,  at  least,  we  are  doomed  to  differ  even 
in  the  cases  where  we  most  agree. 

There  is,  however,  consolation  to  be  drawn  from 
the  converse  statement,  which  is,  I  hope,  not  less  true. 
If  there  are  differences  where  we  most  agree,  surely 
also  there  are  agreements  where  we  most  differ.  I 
like  to  think  of  the  human  race,  from  whatever 
stock  its  members  may  have  sprung,  in  whatever 
age  they  may  be  born,  whatever  creed  they  may 
profess,  together  in  the  presence  of  the  One  Reality, 
engaged,  not  wholly  in  vain,  in  spelling  out  some 
fragments  of  its  message.     All  share  its  being ;  to 


BELIEFS,   FORMULAS,   AND   REALITIES  285 

none  are  its  oracles  wholly  dumb.  And  if  both  in 
the  natural  world  and  in  the  spiritual  the  advance- 
ment we  have  made  on  our  forefathers  be  so  great 
that  our  interpretation  seems  indefinitely  removed 
from  that  which  primitive  man  could  alone  compre- 
hend, and  wherewith  he  had  to  be  content,  it  ma}' 
be,  indeed  I  think  it  is,  the  case  that  our  approxi- 
mate guesses  are  still  closer  to  his  than  they  are  to 
their  common  Object,  and  that  far  as  we  seem  to 
have  travelled,  yet,  measured  on  the  celestial  scale, 
our  intellectual  progress  is  scarcely  to  be  discerned. 
so  minute  is  the  parallax  of  Infinite  Truth. 

These  observations,  however,  seem  only  to  ren- 
der more  distant  an}'  satisfactory  solution  of  the 
first  of  the  difficulties  propounded  above.  If  knowl- 
edge must,  at  the  best,  be  so  imperfect ;  if  agi-ee- 
ment,  real  inner  agreement,  about  the  object  of 
knowledge  can  thus  never  be  complete;  and  if,  in 
addition  to  this,  the  history  of  religious  thought  is, 
like  all  other  history,  one  of  change  and  develop- 
ment, where  and  what  are  those  immutable  doc- 
trines which,  in  the  opinion  of  most  theologians, 
ought  to  be  handed  on,  a  sacred  trust,  from  genera- 
tion to  generation?  The  answer  lo  this  question  is, 
I  think,  suggested  by  the  parallel  cases  of  science 
and  ethics.  For  all  these  things  may  be  said  of 
them  as  well  as  of  theology,  and  they  also  nre  the 
trustees  of  statements  which  ought  to  be  preserved 
unchnngcfl  tlnough  all  ixvolutions  in  srientifir  and 
ethical  tlieory.     Of  these  statements   I   do  not  pre- 


286  BELIEFS,   FORMULAS,   AND    REALITIES 

tend  to  give  either  a  list  or  a  definition.  But  with- 
out saying  what  they  are,  it  is  at  least  permissible, 
after  the  discussion  in  the  last  chapter,  to  say  what, 
as  a  rule,  they  are  not.  They  are  not  Explanatory, 
Rare  indeed  is  it  to  find  explanations  of  the  concrete 
which,  if  they  endure  at  all,  do  not  require  perpetual 
patching  to  keep  them  in  repair.  Not  among  these, 
but  among  the  statements  of  things  explained,  of 
things  that  want  explanation,  yes,  and  of  things  that 
are  inexplicable,  we  must  search  for  the  proposi- 
tions about  the  real  world  capable  of  ministering 
unchanged  for  indefinite  periods  to  the  uses  of  Man- 
kind. Such  propositions  may  record  a  particular 
'fact,'  as  that  'Caesar  is  dead.'  They  may  embody 
an  ethical  imperative,  as  that  '  Stealing  is  wrong,' 
They  may  convey  some  great  principle,  as  that  the 
order  of  Nature  is  uniform,  or  that  '  God  exists.' 
All  these  statement,  even  if  accurate  (as  I  assume, 
for  the  sake  of  argument,  that  they  are),  will,  no 
doubt,  as  I  have  said,  have  a  different  import  for 
different  persons  and  for  different  ages.  But  this  is 
not  only  consistent  with  their  value  as  vehicles  for 
the  transmission  of  truth — it  is  essential  to  it.  If 
their  meaning  could  be  exhausted  by  one  genera- 
tion, they  would  be  false  for  the  next.  It  is  because 
they  can  be  charged  with  a  richer  and  richer  con- 
tent as  our  knowledge  slowly  grows  to  a  fuller  har- 
mony with  the  Infinite  Reality,  that  they  may  be 
counted  among  the  most  precious  of  our  inalienable 
possessions. 


BELIEFS,    FORMULAS,   AND    REALITIES  28/ 


NOTE 

The  permanent  value  which  the  results  of  the  great  ecclesias- 
tical controversies  of  the  first  four  centuries  have  had  for  Chris- 
tendom, as  compared  with  that  possessed  by  the  more  transitory 
speculations  of  later  ages,  illustrates,  I  think,  the  suggestion  con- 
tained in  the  text.  For  whatever  opinion  the  reader  may  entertain 
of  the  decisions  at  which  the  Church  arrived  on  the  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity,  it  is  at  least  clear  that  they  were  not  in  the  nature  of  ex- 
planations. They  were,  in  fact,  precisely  the  reverse.  They  were 
the  negation  of  explanations.  The  various  heresies  which  it  com- 
bated were,  broadly  speaking,  all  endeavours  to  bring  the  mystery 
as  far  as  possible  into  harmony  with  contemporary  speculations. 
Gnostic,  Neo-platonic,  or  Rationalising,  to  relieve  it  from  this  or 
that  difficulty  :  in  short,  to  do  something  towards  '  explaining '  it. 
The  Church  held  that  all  such  explanations  or  partial  explanations 
inflicted  irremediable  impoverishment  on  the  idea  of  the  Godhead 
which  was  essentially  involved  in  the  Christian  revelation.  They 
insisted  on  preserving  that  idea  in  all  its  inexplicable  fulness ;  and 
so  it  has  come  about  that  while  such  simplifications  as  those  of  the 
Arians,  for  example,  are  so  alien  and  impossible  to  modern  modes  of 
thought  that  if  they  had  been  incorporated  with  Christianity  they 
must  have  destroyed  it,  the  doctrine  of  Christ's  Divinity  still  gives 
reality  and  life  to  the  worship  of  millions  of  pious  souls,  who  are 
wholly  ignorant  both  of  the  controversy  to  which  they  owe  its 
preservation,  and  of  the  technicalities  which  its  discussion  has  in- 
volved. 


CHAPTER   IV 

'ULTIMATE   SCIENTIFIC   IDEAS* 

If,  as  is  not  unlikely,  there  are  readers  who  ac- 
cept unwillingly  this  profession  of  all-pervading 
error  in  so  far  as  it  applies  to  our  scientific  knowl- 
edge— who  are  disposed  to  represent  Science  as  a 
Land  of  Goshen,  bright  beneath  the  unclouded 
splendours  of  the  midday  sun,  while  Religion  lies 
beyond,  wrapped  in  the  impenetrable  darkness  of 
the  Egyptian  plague — I  would  suggest  for  their 
further  consideration  certain  arguments,  not  drawn 
like  those  in  the  preceding  section  from  the  nature 
of  our  knowledge  in  general,  nor  like  those  in  an 
earlier  portion  of  this  Essay  from  the  deficiencies 
which  may  be  detected  in  scientific  proof,  but  based 
exclusively  upon  an  examination  of  fundamental 
scientific  ideas  considered  in  themselves.  For  these 
ideas  possess  a  quality,  exhibited  no  doubt  equally 
by  ideas  in  other  departments  of  knowledge,  which 
admirably  illustrates  our  ignorance  of  what  we  know 
best,  our  blindness  to  what  we  see  most  clearly. 
This  quality,  indeed,  is  not  very  easy  to  describe  in 
a  sentence ;  but  perhaps  it  may  be  pi'ovisionally  in- 
dicated by  sa3'ing  that,  although  these  ideas  seem 


'ULTIMATE   SCIENTIFIC   IDEAS'  289 

quite  simple  so  long  as  we  only  have  to  handle  them 
for  the  practical  purposes  of  dail}^  life,  yet,  when  they 
are  subjected  to  critical  investigation,  they  appear 
to  crumble  under  the  process ;  to  lose  all  precision 
of  outline ;  to  vanish  like  the  magician  in  the  story, 
leaving  only  an  elusive  mist  in  the  grasp  of  those 
who  would  arrest  them. 

Nothing,  for  instance,  seems  simpler  than  the 
idea  involved  in  the  statement  that  we  are,  each  of 
us,  situated  at  any  given  moment  in  some  par- 
ticular portion  of  space,  surrounded  by  a  multitude 
of  material  things,  which  are  constantly  acting 
upon  us  and  upon  each  other.  A  proposition  of 
this  kind  is  merely  a  generalised  form  of  the  judg- 
ments which  we  make  every  minute  of  our  waking 
lives,  about  whose  meaning  we  entertain  no  manner 
of  doubt,  which,  indeed,  provide  us  with  our  famil- 
iar examples  of  all  that  is  most  lucid  and  most  cer- 
tain. Yet  the  purport  of  the  sentence  which  ex- 
presses it  is  clear  onl)^  till  it  is  examined,  is  certain 
only  till  it  is  questioned  ;  wiiile  almost  every  word 
in  it  suggests,  and  has  long  suggested,  perplexing 
problems  to  all  who  are  prepared  to  consider  them. 

What  are  '  we  '  ?  What  is  space?  Can  '  we  '  be 
in  space,  or  is  it  only  our  bodies  about  which  any 
such  statement  can  be  made  ?  What  is  a  'thing'? 
and,  in  particular,  what  is  a  'material  thing'? 
What  is  ?neant  by  saying  that  one  '  material  thing' 
acts  upon  another?  What  is  meant  by  saying  that 
'  mateiial  things'  act  ujmju  'us'?  Here  are  six 
19 


290  '  ULTIMATE   SCIENTIFIC   IDEAS  ' 

questions  all  directly  and  obviously  arising  out  of 
our  most  familiar  acts  of  judgment  Yet,  direct  and 
obvious  as  they  are,  it  is  hardly  too  much  to  say 
that  they  involve  all  the  leading  problems  of  mod- 
ern philosophy,  and  that  the  man  who  has  got  an 
answer  to  them  is  the  fortunate  possessor  of  a  toler- 
ably complete  system  of  metaphysics. 

Consider,  for  example,  the  simplest  of  the  six 
questions  enumerated  above,  namely,  What  is  a 
'  material  thing  '  ?  Nothing  could  be  plainer  till 
you  consider  it.  Nothing  can  be  obscurer  when 
you  do.  A  '  thing  '  has  qualities — hardness,  weight, 
shape,  and  so  forth.  Is  it  merely  the  sum  of  these 
qualities,  or  is  it  something  more?  If  it  is  merely 
the  sum  of  its  qualities,  have  these  any  independent 
existence  ?  Nay,  is  such  an  independent  existence 
even  conceivable  ?  If  it  is  something  more,  what 
is  the  relation  of  the  '  qualities '  to  the  '  something 
more '  ?  Again,  can  we  on  reflection  regard  a 
'thing 'as  an  isolated  'somewhat,'  an  entity  self- 
sufficient  and  potentially  solitary?  Or  must  we  not 
rather  regard  it  as  being  what  it  is  in  virtue  of  its 
relation  to  other  '  somewhats,'  which,  again,  are 
what  they  are  in  virtue  of  their  relation  to  it,  and  to 
each  other  ?  And  if  we  take,  as  I  think  we  must, 
the  latter  alternative,  are  we  not  driven  by  it  into 
a  profitless  progression  through  parts  which  are 
unintelligible  by  themselves,  but  which  yet  obsti- 
nately refuse  to  coalesce  into  any  fully  intelligible 
whole  ? 


'  ULTIMATE   SCIENTIFIC   IDEAS  '  291 

Now,  I  do  not  serve  up  these  cold  fragments  of 
ancient  though  unsolved  controversies  for  no  better 
purpose  than  to  weary  the  reader  who  is  familiar 
with  mctajjliysical  discussion,  and  to  puzzle  the 
reader  who  is  not.  I  rather  desire  to  direct  atten- 
tion to  the  universality  of  a  ditficidty  which  man}- 
persons  seem  glad  enough  to  acknowledge  when 
they  come  across  it  in  Theology,  though  they  ad- 
mit it  only  with  reluctance  in  the  case  of  Ethics  and 
^-Esthetics,  and  for  the  most  part  completely  ignore 
it  when  the}'  are  dealing  \vith  our  knowledge  of 
'  phenomena.'  Yet  in  this  respect,  at  least,  all  these 
branches  of  knowledge  would  appear  to  stand  very 
much  upon  an  equality.  In  all  of  them  conclusions 
seem  more  certain  than  premises,  the  superstruct- 
ure more  stable  than  the  foundation.  In  all  of 
them  we  move  with  full  assurance  and  a  practical 
securit}'  only  among  ideas  which  are  relative  and 
dependent.  In  all  of  them  these  ideas,  so  clear  and 
so  sufhcient  for  purposes  of  everyday  thought  and 
action,  become  confused  and  but  dimly  intelligible 
when  examined  in  the  unspai-ing  light  of  critical 
analysis. 

We  need  not,  therefore,  be  surprised  if  we  find 
it  hard  to  isolate  the  permanent  element  in  Beauty, 
seeing  that  it  eludes  us  in  material  objects;  that  tiie 
ground  of  Moral  Law  should  iiol  be  wholly  clear, 
seeing  that  the  ground  of  Natural  Law  is  so  ob- 
scure ;  that  we  do  not  adecjuately  coiii|utlicnd  God, 
seeing    that    we   can    give    no  vcr\-   satisiactory  ac- 


292  '  ultimatp:  scientific  ideas  ' 

count  of  what  we  mean  by 'a  thing.'  Yet  I  think 
a  more  profitable  lesson  is  to  be  learnt  from  admis- 
sions like  these  than  the  general  inadequacy  of  our 
existing  metaphysic.  And  it  is  the  more  necessary 
to  consider  carefully  what  that  lesson  is,  inasmuch 
as  a  very  perverted  version  of  it  forms  the  basis  of 
the  only  modern  system  of  English  growth  which, 
professing  to  provide  us  with  a  general  philosophy, 
has  received  any  appreciable  amount  of  popular 
support. 

Mr.  Spencer's  theory  admits,  nay,  insists,  that 
what  it  calls  'ultimate  scientific  ideas'  are  incon- 
sistent and,  to  use  his  own  phrase,  *  unthinkable.' 
Space,  time,  matter,  motion,  force,  and  so  forth,  are 
each  in  turn  shown  to  involve  contradictions  which 
it  is  beyond  our  power  to  solve,  and  obscurities 
which  it  is  beyond  our  power  to  penetrate ;  while 
the  once  famous  dialectic  of  Hamilton  and  Mansel 
is  invoked  for  the  purpose  of  enforcing  the  same 
lesson  with  regard  to  the  Absolute  and  the  Uncon- 
ditioned, which  those  thinkers  identified  with  God, 
but  which  Mr.  Spencer  prefers  to  describe  as  the 
Unknowable. 

So  far,  so  good.  Though  the  details  of  the  dem- 
onstration may  not  be  altogether  to  our  liking, 
I,  at  least,  have  no  particular  quarrel  with  its  gen- 
eral tenor,  which  is  in  obvious  harmony  with  much 
that  I  have  just  been  insisting  on.  But  when  we 
have  to  consider  the  conclusion  which  Mr.  Spencer 
contrives  to  extract  from  these  premises,  our  differ- 


'ULTIMATE    SCIENTIFIC    IDEAS'  293 

ences  become  iiTeconcilable.  He  has  proved,  or 
supposes  himself  to  have  proved,  that  the  '  ultimate 
ideas'  of  science  and  the  'ultimate  ideas'  of  the- 
ology are  alike  '  unthinkable.'  What  is  the  proper 
inference  to  be  drawn  from  these  statements  ? 
Why,  clearly,  that  science  and  theology  are  so  far 
on  an  equality  that  every  proposition  which  con- 
siderations like  these  oblige  us  to  assert  about  the 
one,  we  are  bound  to  assert  also  about  the  other; 
and  that  our  general  theory  of  knowledge  must 
take  account  of  the  fact  that  both  these  great  de- 
partments of  it  are  infected  by  the  same  weakness. 

This,  however,  is  not  the  inference  drawn  by  Mr. 
Spencer.  The  idea  that  the  conclusions  of  science 
should  be  profaned  by  speculative  questionings  is  to 
him  intolerable.  He  shrinks  from  an  admission 
which  seems  to  him  to  carry  universal  scepticism 
in  its  train.  And  he  has,  accordingly,  hit  upon  a 
device  for  '  reconciling '  the  differences  between 
science  and  religion  by  which  so  lamentable  a  ca- 
tastrophe may  be  avoided.  His  method  is  a  simple 
one.  He  divides  the  verities  which  have  to  be  be- 
lieved into  thcjse  which  relate  to  the  Knowable  and 
those  which  relate  t(j  the  Unknowable.  What  is 
knowable  he  aijju-opriates,  without  exception,  for 
science.  What  is  unknc^wable  he  abandons,  with- 
out reserve,  to  religion.  With  the  results  of  this 
arbitration  both  contending  parties  should,  in  his 
opinion,  be  satisfied.  It  is  true  that  religion  ma}' 
complain   that  by   this  arrangement  it  is  nuide  the 


294  '  ULTIMATE    SCIENTIFIC    IDEAS  * 

residuary  legatee  of  all  that  is  '  unthinkable ' ;  but 
then,  it  should  remember  that  it  obtains  in  exchange 
an  indefeasible  title  to  all  that  is  '  real.'  Science, 
again,  may  complain  that  its  activities  are  confined 
to  the  'relative'  and  the  'dependent';  but  then, 
it  should  remember  that  it  has  a  monopoly  of  the 
'  intelligible.'  The  one  possesses  all  that  can  be 
known ;  the  other,  all  that  seems  worth  knowing. 
With  so  equal  a  partition  of  the  spoils  both  dispu- 
tants should  be  content. 

Without  contesting  the  fairness  of  this  curious 
arrangement,  I  am  compelled  to  question  its  valid- 
ity. Science  cannot  thus  transfer  the  burden  of  its 
own  obscurities  and  contradictions  to  the  shoulders 
of  religion;  and  Mr.  Spencer  is  only,  perhaps,  mis- 
led into  supposing  such  a  procedure  to  be  possible 
by  his  use  of  the  word  '  ultimate.'  '  Ultimate '  scien- 
tific ideas  may,  in  his  opinion,  be  'unthinkable' 
without  prejudice  to  the  '  thinkableness' of  'proxi- 
mate' scientific  ideas.  The  one  may  dwell  for  ever 
in  the  penumbra  of  what  he  calls  '  nascent  conscious- 
ness,' in  the  dim  twilight  where  religion  and  science 
are  indistinguishable ;  while  the  other  stands  out, 
definite  and  certain,  in  the  full  light  of  experience 
and  verification.  Such  a  view  is  not,  I  think,  philo- 
sophically tenable.  As  soon  as  the  '  unthinkable- 
ness '  of  '  ultimate '  scientific  ideas  is  speculatively 
recognised,  the  fact  must  react  upon  our  specula- 
tive attitudes  towards  'proximate'  scientific  ideas. 
That  which  in  the  order  of  reason  is  dependent  can- 


'ULTIMATE   SCIENTIFIC   IDEAS'  295 

not  be  unaffected  by  the  weaknesses  and  the  ob- 
scurities of  that  on  which  it  depends.  If  the  one  is 
unintelligible,  the  other  can  hardly  be  rationally  es- 
tablished. 

In  order  to  prove  this — if  proof  be  required — we 
need  not  travel  beyond  the  ample  limits  of  Mr. 
Spencer's  own  philosophy.  To  be  sure  he  obstinately 
shuts  his  ears  against  speculative  doubts  respecting 
the  conclusions  of  science.  '  To  ask  whether  science 
is  substantially  true  is  [he  observes]  much  like  asking 
whether  the  sun  gives  light.'  ^  It  is,  I  admit,  very 
much  like  it.  But  then,  on  Mr.  Spencer's  principles, 
docs  the  sun  give  light?  After  due  consideration  we 
shall  have  to  admit,  I  think,  that  it  does  not.  For  it 
is  a  statement  which,  if  made  intelligently,  not  only 
involves  the  comprehension  of  matter,  space,  time, 
and  force,  which  are,  according  to  Mr.  Spencer,  all 
incomprehensible,  but  there  is  the  further  difficulty 
that,  if  his  system  is  to  be  believed,  'what  we  are 
conscious  of  as  properties  of  matter,  even  down  to 
weight  and  resistance,  are  but  subjective  affections 
produced  by  objective  agencies,  which  are  unknown 
and  unknowable.'^  It  would  seem,  therefore,  either 
that  the  sun  is  a  '  subjective  alfcction,'  in  which  case 
it  can  hardly  be  said  to  '  give  light '  ;  or  it  is  '  un- 
known '  and  '  unknowable,'  in  which  case  no  assertion 
respecting  it  can  be  regarded  as  supplying  us  with 
any  very  flattering  specimen  of  scientihc  certitude. 
The  truth  is  that  Mr.  Spencer,  like  many  of  his 
'  First  Principles,  p.  19.       '  Principles  of  Psychology,  ii.  493. 


296  '  ULTIMATE   SCIENTIFIC    IDEAS  ' 

predecessors,  has  impaired  the  value  of  his  specula- 
tions by  the  hesitating  timidity  with  which  he  has 
pursued  them.  Nobody  is  required  to  investigate 
first  principles  ;  but  those  who  voluntarily  undertake 
the  task  should  not  shrink  from  its  results.  And  if 
among  these  we  have  to  count  a  theoretical  scepti- 
cism about  scientific  knowledge,  we  make  matters, 
not  better,  but  worse,  by  attempting  to  ignore  it.  In 
Mr.  Spencer's  case  this  procedure  has,  among  other 
ill  consequences,  caused  him  to  miss  the  moral  which 
at  one  moment  lay  ready  to  his  hand.  He  has  had 
the  acuteness  to  see  that  our  beliefs  cannot  be  limited 
to  the  sequences  and  the  co-existences  of  phenomena  ; 
that  the  ideas  on  which  science  relies,  and  in  terms 
of  which  all  science  has  to  be  expressed,  break  down 
under  the  stress  of  criticism  ;  that  beyond  what  we 
think  we  know,  and  in  closest  relationship  with  it, 
lies  an  infinite  field  which  we  do  not  know,  and  which 
with  our  present  faculties  we  can  never  know,  yet 
which  cannot  be  ignored  without  making  what  we 
do  know  unintelligible  and  meaningless.  But  he 
has  failed  to  see  whither  such  speculations  must  in- 
evitably lead  him.  He  has  failed  to  see  that  if  the 
certitudes  of  science  lose  themselves  in  depths  of  un- 
fathomable mystery,  it  may  well  be  that  out  of  these 
same  depths  there  should  emerge  the  certitudes  of 
religion ;  and  that  if  the  dependence  of  the  '  know- 
able'  upon  the  '  unknowable  '  embarrasses  us  not  in 
the  one  case,  no  reason  can  be  assigned  why  it  should 
embarrass  us  in  the  other. 


'  ULTIMATE   SCIENTIFIC    IDEAS  '  297 

Mr.  Spencer,  in  short,  has  avoided  the  error  of 
dividing  all  reality  into  a  Perceivable  which  concerns 
us,  and  an  Unperceivablc  which,  if  it  exists  at  all, 
concerns  us  not.  Agnosticism  so  understood  he  ex- 
plicitly repudiates  by  his  theory,  if  not  by  his  practice. 
But  he  has  not  seen  that,  if  this  simple-minded  creed 
be  once  abandoned,  there  is  no  convenient  halting- 
place  till  we  have  swung  round  to  a  theory  of  things 
which  is  its  precise  opposite  :  a  theory  which,  though 
it  shrinks  on  its  speculative  side  from  no  severity  of 
critical  analysis,  yet  on  its  practical  side  finds  the 
source  of  its  constructive  energy  in  the  deepest 
needs  of  man,  and  thus  recognises,  alike  in  science, 
in  ethics,  in  beauty,  in  religion,  the  halting  expres- 
sion of  a  reality  beyond  our  reach,  the  half-seen 
vision  of  transcendent  Truth. 


CHAPTER  V 

SCIENCE  AND   THEOLOGY 


The  point  of  view  we  have  thus  reached  is  obvi- 
ously the  precise  opposite  of  that  which  is  adopted 
by  those  who  either  accept  the  naturalistic  view  of 
things  in  its  simplicity,  or  who  agree  with  natural- 
ism in  taking  our  knowledge  of  Nature  as  the  core 
and  substance  of  their  creed,  while  gladly  adding  to 
it  such  supernatural  supplements  as  are  permitted 
them  by  the  canons  of  their  rationalising  philosophy. 
Of  these  last  there  are  two  varieties.  There  are 
those  who  refuse  to  add  anything  to  the  teaching 
of  science  proper,  except  such  theological  doctrines 
as  they  persuade  themselves  may  be  deduced  from 
scientific  premises.  And  there  are  those  who,  being 
less  fastidious  in  the  matter  of  proof,  are  prepared, 
tentatively  and  provisionally,  to  admit  so  much  of 
theology  as  they  think  their  naturalistic  premises 
do  not  positively  contradict. 

It  must,  I  think,  be  admitted  that  the  members 
of  these  two  classes  are  at  some  disadvantage  com- 
pared with  the  naturalistic  philosophers  proper.     To 


SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY  299 

be  sure,  the  scheme  of  belief  so  confidently  propound- 
ed by  the  latter  is,  as  we  have  seen,  both  incoherent 
and  inadequate.  But  its  incoherence  is  hid  from 
them  by  the  inevitableness  of  its  positive  teaching ; 
while  its  inadequacy  is  covered  by  the,  as  yet,  un- 
squandcred  heritage  of  sentiments  and  ideals  which 
has  come  down  to  us  from  other  ages  inspired  by 
other  faiths.  On  the  other  hand,  as  a  set-off  against 
this,  they  may  justly  claim  that  their  principles, 
such  as  they  are,  have  been  worked  out  to  their  le- 
gitimate conclusion.  They  have  reached  their  jour- 
ney's end,  and  there  they  may  at  least  rest,  if  it  is 
not  pfiven  them  to  be  thankful.  Far  different  is  the 
fate  of  those  who  are  leluctantly  travelling  the  road 
t(^  naturalism,  driven  thither  by  a  false  ^jhilosophy 
honestly  entertained.  To  them  each  new  discovery 
in  geology,  mor]:)hology,  anthropolog}',  or  the  'high- 
er criticism,'  arouses  as  much  theological  anxiety 
as  it  does  scientific  interest.  They  are  perpetually 
occupied  in  the  task  of  '  reconciling,'  as  the  phrase 
goes,  'religion  and  science.'  This  is  to  them,  not  an 
intellectual  luxury,  but  a  pressing  and  overmaster- 
ing necessity.  For  their  theology  exists  only  on 
sufferance.  It  rules  over  its  hereditary  territories 
as  a  tributary  vassal  dependent  on  the  forbearance 
of  some  encroaching  overlord.  Province  after 
province  which  once  acknowledged  its  sovereignty 
has  been  torn  from  its  grasp  ;  and  it  depends  no 
longer  upon  its  own  action,  but  upon  the  uncon- 
trolled  policy  of  its  too   powerful  neighbour,   how 


300  SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY 

long  it  shall   preserve  a  precarious  authority  over 
the  remainder. 

Now,  my  reasons  lor  entirely  dissenting  from 
this  melancholy  view  of  the  relations  between  the 
various  departments  of  belief  have  been  one  of  the 
chief  themes  of  these  Notes.  But  it  must  not  on 
this  account  be  supposed  that  1  intend  to  deny, 
either  that  it  is  our  business  to  '  reconcile  '  all  be- 
liefs, so  far  as  possible,  into  a  self-consistent  whole, 
or  that,  because  a  perfectly  coherent  philosophy 
cannot  as  yet  be  attained,  it  is,  in  the  meanwhile,  a 
matter  of  complete  indifference  how  many  contra- 
dictions and  obscurities  we  admit  into  our  provi- 
sional system.  Some  contradictions  and  obscurities 
there  needs  must  be.  That  we  should  not  be  able 
completely  to  harmonise  the  detached  hints  and 
isolated  fragments  in  which  alone  Reality  comes  in- 
to relation  with  us  ;  that  we  should  but  imperfectly 
co-ordinate  what  we  so  imperfectly  comprehend, 
is  what  we  might  expect,  and  what  for  the  pres- 
ent we  have  no  choice  but  to  submit  to.  Yet 
it  will,  I  think,  be  found  on  examination  that 
the  discrepancies  which  exist  between  different  de- 
partments of  belief  are  less  in  number  and  impor- 
tance than  those  which  exist  within  the  various  de- 
partments themselves ;  that  the  difihculties  which 
science,  ethics,  or  theology  have  to  solve  in  common 
are  more  formidable  by  far  than  any  which  divide 
them  from  each  other  ;  and  that,  in  particular,  the 
supposed    'conflict    between  science  and  religion,' 


SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY  3OI 

which  occupies  so  large  a  space  in  contemporar)'- 
literature,  is  the  theme  of  so  much  vigorous  debate, 
and  seems  to  so  many  earnest  souls  the  one  question 
worth  resolving,  is  either  concerned  for  the  most 
part  with  matters  in  themselves  comparatively  tri- 
fling, or  touches  interests  lying  far  beyond  the  limits 
of  pure  theology. 

Of  course,  it  must  be  remembered  that  I  am  now 
talking  of  science,  not  of  naturalism.  The  differ- 
ences between  naturalism  and  theology  are,  no 
doubt,  irreconcilable,  since  naturalism  is  by  defini- 
tion the  negation  of  all  theology.  But  science  must 
not  be  dragged  into  every  one  of  the  many  quarrels 
which  naturalism  has  taken  upon  its  shoulders. 
Science  is  in  no  way  concerned,  for  instance,  to  deny 
the  reality  of  a  world  unrevealed  to  us  in  sense-per- 
ception, nor  the- existence  of  a  God  who,  however 
imperfectly,  may  be  known  by  those  who  diligently 
seek  Him.  All  it  says,  or  ouglit  to  say,  is  that  these 
are  matters  beyond  its  jurisdiction;  to  be  tried, 
therefore,  in  other  courts,  and  before  judges  admin- 
istering different  laws. 

But  we  ma}^  go  further.  The  being  of  God  may 
be  beyond  the  province  of  science,  and  yet  it  may 
be  from  a  consideration  of  the  general  body  of 
scientific  knowledge  that  philosophy  draws  some 
imjiortant  motives  for  accc])ting  the  doctrine.  Any 
complete  survey  of  the  'proofs  of  theism'  would,  I 
need  not  say,  be  here  quite  out  of  |)lace;  yet.  in 
order  to  make  clear  where  1  lliink  ihr  real  difliciilty 


302  SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY 

lies  in  framing  any  system  which  shall  include  both 
theology  and  science,  I  may  be  permitted  to  say 
enough  about  theism  to  show  where  I  think  the 
difficulty  does  not  lie.  It  does  not  lie  in  the  doctrine 
that  there  is  a  supernatural  or,  let  us  say,  a  meta- 
physical ground,  on  which  the  whole  system  of 
natural  phenomena  depend  ;  nor  in  the  attribution 
to  this  ground  of  the  quality  of  reason,  or,  it  may 
be,  of  something  higher  than  reason,  in  which  rea- 
son is,  so  to  speak,  included.  This  belief,  with  all 
its  inherent  obscurities,  is,  no  doubt,  necessary  to 
theology,  but  it  is  at  the  same  time  so  far,  in  my 
judgment,  from  being  repugnant  to  science  that, 
without  it,  the  scientific  view  of  the  natural  world 
would  not  be  less,  but  more,  beset  with  difficulties 
than  it  is  at  present. 

This  fact  has  been  in  part  obscured  by  certain 
infelicities  in  the  popular  statements  of  what  is 
known  as  the  '  Argument  from  Design.'  In  a 
famous  answer  to  that  argument  it  has  been  pointed 
out  that  the  inference  from  the  adaptation  of  means 
to  ends,  which  rightly  convinces  us  in  the  case  of 
manufactured  articles  that  they  are  not  the  result  of 
chance,  but  are  produced  by  intelligent  contrivance, 
can  scarcely  be  legitimately  applied  to  the  case  of 
the  universe  as  a  whole.  An  induction  which  may 
be  perfectly  valid  within  the  circle  of  phenomena, 
may  be  quite  meaningless  when  it  is  employed  to 
account  for  the  circle  itself.  You  cannot  infer  a 
God  from  the  existence  of  the  world  as  you  infer  an 


SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY  303 

architect  from  the  existence  of  a  house,  or  a  me- 
chanic from  the  existence  of  a  watch. 

Without  discussing  the  merits  of  this  answer  at 
length,  so  much  may,  I  think,  be  conceded  to  it — 
that  it  suggests  a  doubt  whether  the  theokigians 
who  thus  rely  upon  an  inductive  proof  of  the  being 
of  God  are  not  in  a  position  somewhat  similar  to 
that  of  the  empirical  philosophers  who  rel}-  upon 
an  inductive  proof  of  the  uniformity  of  Nature. 
The  uniformity  of  Nature,  as  1  have  before  ex- 
plained, cannot  be  proved  by  experience,  for  it  is 
what  makes  proof  from  experience  possible.'  We 
must  bring  it,  or  something  like  it,  to  the  facts 
in  order  to  infer  anything  from  them  at  all.  As- 
sume it,  and  we  shall  no  doubt  find  that,  broadly 
speaking  and  in  the  rough,  what  we  call  the  facts 
conform  to  it.  But  this  conformity  is  not  inductive 
proof,  and  must  not  be  confounded  with  it.  In  the 
same  way,  I  do  not  contend  that,  if  we  start  from 
Nature  without  God,  we  shall  be  logicall)-  driven 
to  believe  in  Ilim  by  a  mere  consideration  of  the 
examples  of  adaptation  which  it  undoubtedly  con- 
tains. It  is  enough  that  when  we  bring  this  belief 
with  us  to  the  study  of  phenomena,  we  can  say  of 

'  This  phrase  has  a  Kantian  rintj  about  it  ;  but  I  need  not  say 
that  it  is  not  here  used  in  the  Kantian  sense.  The  argument  is 
touched  on,  as  the  reader  may  recollect,  at  the  end  of  Chapter  I., 
I 'art  II.  See,  however,  below  a  further  discussion  as  to  what  the 
uniformity  of  Nature  means,  and  as  to  what  may  be  properly  in- 
ferred from  it. 


304  SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY 

it,  what  we  have  just  said  of  the  principle  of  uni- 
formity, namely,  that,  '  broadly  speaking  and  in  the 
rough,'  the  facts  harmonise  with  it,  and  that  it  gives 
a  unity  and  a  coherence  to  our  apprehension  of  the 
natural  world  which  it  would  not  otherwise  possess. 


II 

But  the  argument  from  design,  in  whatever 
shape  it  is  accepted,  is  not  the  only  one  in  favour  of 
theism  with  which  scientific  knowledge  furnishes 
us.  Nor  is  it,  to  my  mind,  the  most  important. 
The  argument  from  design  rests  upon  the  world  as 
known.  But  something  also  may  be  inferred  from 
the  mere  fact  that  we  know — a  fact  which,  like 
every  other,  has  to  be  accounted  for.  And  how  is 
it  to  be  accounted  for  ?  I  need  not  repeat  again 
what  I  have  already  said  about  Authority  and  Rea- 
son ;  for  it  is  evident  that,  whatever  be  the  part 
played  by  reason  among  the  proximate  causes  of 
belief,  among  the  ultimate  causes  it  plays,  accord- 
ing to  science,  no  part  at  all.  On  the  naturalistic 
hypothesis,  the  whole  premises  of  knowledge  are 
clearly  due  to  the  blind  operation  of  material  causes, 
and  in  the  last  resort  to  these  alone.  On  that  hy- 
pothesis we  no  more  possess  free  reason  than  we 
possess  free  will.  As  all  our  volitions  are  the  in- 
evitable product  of  forces  which  are  quite  alien  to 
morality,  so  all  our  conclusions  are  the  inevitable 
product  of  forces  which  are  quite  alien  to  reason. 


SCIENCE  AND  THEOLOGY  305 

As  the  casual  introduction  of  conscience,  or  a  '  good 
will,'  into  the  chain  of  causes  which  ends  in  a  '  vir- 
tuous action  '  ought  not  to  suggest  any  idea  of 
merit,  so  the  casual  introduction  of  a  little  ratiocina- 
tion as  a  stray  link  in  the  chain  of  causes  which 
ends  in  what  we  are  pleased  to  describe  as  a  '  dem- 
onstrated conclusion,'  ought  not  to  be  taken  as 
implying  that  the  conclusion  is  in  harmony  with 
fact.  Morality  and  reason  are  august  names,  which 
give  an  air  of  respectability  to  certain  actions  and 
certain  arguments  ;  but  it  is  quite  obvious  on  exam- 
ination that,  if  the  naturalistic  hypothesis  be  cor- 
rect, they  are  but  unconscious  tools  in  the  hands  of 
their  unmoral  and  non  -  rational  antecedents,  and 
that  the  real  responsibility  for  all  they  do  lies  in  the 
distribution  of  matter  and  energy  wliicii  liap[jencd 
to  prevail  far  back  in  the  incalculable  past. 

These  conclusions  are,  no  doubt,  as  we  saw  at 
the  beginning  of  this  Essay,  embarrassing  enough 
to  Morality.  But  they  are  absolutely  ruinous  to 
Knowledge.  For  they  require  us  to  accept  a  sys- 
tem as  rational,  one  of  whose  doctrines  is  that  the 
system  itself  is  the  product  of  causes  which  have  no 
tendency  to  truth  rather  than  falsehood,  or  to  false- 
hood rather  than  truth.  Forget,  if  you  please,  that 
reason  itself  is  the  result,  like  nerves  or  muscles,  o( 
physical  antecedents.  Assume  (a  tolerably  violent 
assumption)  that  in  dealing  with  iier  premises  she 
(jbeys  only  her  own  laws.  Of  what  value  is  this 
autonomy  if  those  premises  are  settled  f(jr  her  by 
20 


306  SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY 

purely  irrational  forces,  which  she  is  powerless  to 
control,  or  even  to  comprehend?  The  professor  of 
naturalism  rejoicing  in  the  display  of  his  dialectical 
resources,  is  like  a  voyager,  pacing  at  his  own  pleas- 
ure up  and  down  the  ship's  deck,  who  should  sup- 
pose that  his  movements  had  some  important  share 
in  determining  his  position  on  the  illimitable  ocean. 
And  the  parallel  would  be  complete  if  we  can  con- 
ceive such  a  voyager  pointing  to  the  alertness  of 
his  step  and  the  vigour  of  his  limbs  as  auguring 
well  for  the  successful  prosecution  of  his  journey, 
while  assuring  you  in  the  very  same  breath  that  the 
vessel,  within  whose  narrow  bounds  he  displays  all 
this  meaningless  activity,  is  drifting  he  knows  not 
whence  nor  whither,  without  pilot  or  captain,  at  the 
bidding  of  shifting  winds  and  incalculable  currents. 

Consider  the  following  propositions,  selected 
from  the  naturalistic  creed  or  deduced  from  it : — 

(i.)  My  beliefs,  in  so  far  as  they  are  the  result  of 
reasoning  at  all,  are  founded  on  premises  produced 
in  the  last  resort  by  the  '  collision  of  atoms.' 

(ii.)  Atoms,  having  no  prejudices  in  favour  of 
truth,  are  as  likely  to  turn  out  wrong  premises  as 
right  ones  ;  nay,  more  likely,  inasmuch  as  truth  is 
single  and  error  manifold. 

(iii.)  My  premises,  therefore,  in  the  first  place, 
and  my  conclusions  in  the  second,  are  certainly 
untrustworthy,  and  probably  false.  Their  falsity, 
moreover,  is  of  a  kind  which  cannot  be  remedied  ; 
since   any  attempt   to  correct   it   must   start   from 


SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY  307 

premises  not  suffering  under  the  same  defect.  But 
no  such  premises  exist. 

(iv.)  Therefore,  again,  my  opinion  about  the 
original  causes  which  jM'oduced  my  premises,  as  it 
is  an  inference  from  them,  partakes  of  their  weak- 
ness ;  so  that  I  cannot  either  securely  doubt  my 
own  certainties  or  be  certain  about  my  own  doubts. 

This  is  scepticism  indeed  ;  scepticism  which  is 
forced  by  its  own  inner  nature  to  be  sceptical  even 
about  itself ;  which  neither  kills  belief  nor  lets  it 
live.  But  it  may  perhaps  be  suggested  in  reply  to 
this  argument,  that  whatever  force  it  may  have 
against  the  old-fashioned  naturalism,  its  edge  is 
blunted  when  turned  against  the  evolutionar}^  ag- 
nosticism of  more  recent  growth  ;  since  the  latter 
establishes  the  existence  of  a  machinery  which,  irra- 
tional though  it  be,  does  really  tend  graduall}^  and 
in  the  long  run,  to  produce  true  opinions  rather 
than  false.  That  machinery  is,  I  need  not  say.  Se- 
lection, and  the  other  forces  (if  t)ther  forces  there  be) 
which  luring  the  '  organism  '  into  more  and  more 
perfect  harmony  with  its  'environment.'  Some  har- 
mony is  necessary — so  runs  the  ai-gument— in  order 
that  any  form  of  life  may  be  possible;  and  as  life  de- 
velops, the  harmony  necessarily  becomes  more  and 
more  complete.  But  since  there  is  no  more  impor- 
tant form  in  whicli  tfiis  harmony  can  show  itself  than 
truth  of  belief,  which  is,  indeed,  only  another  name 
for  the  perfect  correspondence  Ijctween  belief  and 
fact.  Nature,  herein  acting  as  a  kind  of  cosmic  In- 


3o8  SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY 

quisition,  will  repress  by  judicious  persecution  any 
lapses  from  the  standard  of  naturalistic  orthodoxy. 
Sound  doctrine  will  be  fostered  ;  error  will  be  dis- 
couraged or  destroyed ;  until  at  last,  by  methods 
which  are  neither  rational  themselves  nor  of  rational 
origin,  the  cause  of  reason  will  be  fully  vindicated. 
Arguments  like  these  are,  however,  quite  insuffi- 
cient to  justify  the  conclusion  which  is  drawn  from 
them.  In  the  first  place,  they  take  no  account  of 
any  causes  which  were  in  operation  before  life  ap- 
peared upon  the  planet.  Until  there  occurred  the 
unexplained  leap  from  the  Inorganic  to  the  Organic, 
Selection,  of  course,  had  no  place  among  the  evolu- 
tionary processes ;  while  even  after  that  date  it  was, 
from  the  nature  of  the  case,  only  concerned  to  foster 
and  perpetuate  those  chance -borne  beliefs  which 
minister  to  the  continuance  of  the  species.  But 
what  an  utterly  inadequate  basis  for  speculation  is 
here !  We  are  to  suppose  that  powers  which  were 
evolved  in  primitive  man  and  his  animal  progenitors 
in  order  that  they  might  kill  with  success  and  marry 
in  security,  are  on  that  account  fitted  to  explore  the 
secrets  of  the  universe.  We  are  to  suppose  that 
the  fundamental  beliefs  on  which  these  powers  of 
reasoning  are  to  be  exercised  reflect  with  sufificient 
precision  remote  aspects  of  reality,  though  they  were 
produced  in  the  main  by  physiological  processes 
which  date  from  a  stage  of  development  when  the 
only  curiosities  which  had  to  be  satisfied  were  those 
of  fear  and   those  of  hunger.     To  say  that   instru- 


SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY  309 

ments  of  research  constructed  solely  for  uses  like 
these  cannot  be  expected  to  supply  us  with  a  meta- 
physic  or  a  theolog'}',  is  to  say  far  too  little.  They 
cannot  be  expected  to  give  us  any  general  view  even 
of  the  phenomenal  world,  or  to  do  more  than  guide 
us  in  comparative  safety  from  the  satisfaction  of  one 
useful  appetite  to  the  satisfaction  of  ancjther.  On 
this  theory,  therefore,  we  are  again  driven  back  to 
tiie  same  sceptical  position  in  which  we  found  our- 
selves left  by  the  older  forms  of  the  '  positive,'  or 
naturalistic  creed.  On  this  theory,  as  on  the  other, 
reason  has  to  recognise  that  her  rights  of  indepen- 
dent judgment  and  review  are  merely  titular  digni- 
ties, carrying  with  them  no  effective  powers ;  and 
that,  whatever  her  pretensions,  she  is,  for  the  most 
part,  the  mere  editor  and  interpreter  of  the  utter- 
ances of  unreason. 

I  do  not  believe  that  any  escape  from  these  per- 
plexities is  possible,  unless  we  are  prepared  to  bring 
to  the  study  of  the  world  the  presupposition  that  it 
was  the  work  of  a  rational  Being,  who  made  //  intel- 
ligible, and  at  the  same  time  made  us,  in  however 
feeble  a  fashion,  able  to  understand  it.  This  concej)- 
tion  does  not  solve  all  difficulties  ;  far  from  it.'    But, 

'  According  to  a  once  prevalent  theory,  '  innate  ideas  '  were  true 
because  they  were  imjilanted  in  us  by  God.  According  to  my  way 
of  putting  it,  there  must  be  a  God  to  justify  our  confidence  in  (what 
used  to  be  called)  innate  ideas.  I  have  given  the  argument  in  a 
form  which  avoids  all  discussion  as  to  the  nature  of  the  relation 
between  mind  and  body.  Whatever  be  the  mode  of  describing 
this  which  ultimately  commends  itself  to  naturalistic  psychologists, 


3IO  SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY 

at  least,  it  is  not  on  the  face  of  it  incoherent.  It  does 
not  attempt  the  impossible  task  of  extracting-  reason 
from  unreason ;  nor  does  it  require  us  to  accept 
among  scientific  conclusions  any  which  effectually 
shatter  the  credibility  of  scientific  premises. 

Ill 

Theism,  then,  whether  or  not  it  can  in  the  strict 
meaning  of  the  word  be  described  as  proved  by  sci- 
ence, is  a  principle  which  science,  for  a  double  rea- 
son, requires  for  its  own  completion.  The  ordered 
system  of  phenomena  asks  for  a  cause ;  our  knowl- 
edge of  that  system  is  inexplicable  unless  we  assume 
for  it  a  rational  Author.  Under  this  head,  at  least, 
there  should  be  no  '  conflict  between  science  and  re- 
ligion.' 

It  is  true,  of  course,  that  if  theism  smoothes  away 
some  of  the  difficulties  which  atheism  raises,  it  is  not 
on  that  account  without  difficulties  of  its  own.  We 
cannot,  for  example,  form,  I  will  not  say  any  ade- 
quate, but  even  any  tolerable,  idea  of  the  mode  in 
which  God  is  related  to,  and  acts  on,  the  world  of 
phenomena.  That  He  created  it,  that  He  sustains 
it,  we  are  driven  to  believe.  How  He  created  it, 
how  He  sustains  it,  is  impossible  for  us  to  imagine. 
But  let  it  be  observed  that  the  difficulties  Avhich  thus 
arise  are  no  peculiar  heritage  of  theology,  or  of  a 

the  reasoning:  in  the  text  holds  good.  Cf.  the  purely  sceptical 
presentation  of  the  argument  contained  in  Philosophic  Doubt, 
chap.  xiii. 


SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY  311 

science  which  accepts  among-  its  presuppositions  the 
central  truth  which  theology  teaches.  Naturalism 
itself  has  to  face  them  in  a  yet  more  embarrassing- 
form.  For  they  meet  us  not  only  in  connection  with 
the  doctrine  of  God,  but  in  connection  with  the  doc- 
trine of  man.  Not  Divinity  alone  intervenes  in  the 
world  of  things.  Each  living  soul,  in  its  measure 
and  degree,  docs  the  same.  Each  living  soul  which 
acts  on  its  surroundings  raises  questions  analogous 
to,  and  in  some  ways  more  perplexing  than,  those 
suggested  by  the  action  of  a  God  immanent  in  a 
imiverse  of  phenomena. 

Of  course  I  am  aware  that,  in  thus  speaking  of 
the  connection  between  man  and  his  material  sur- 
roundings, I  am  assuming  the  truth  of  a  theory 
which  some  men  of  science  (in  this,  however,  travel- 
ling a  little  beyond  their  province)  would  most 
energetically  deny.  But  their  denial  really  only 
serves  to  emphasise  the  extreme  difficulty  of  the 
problem  raised  by  the  relation  of  the  Self  to  phenom- 
ena. So  hardly  pressed  are  they  by  these  difficul- 
ties tliat,  in  order  to  evade  them,  they  attempt  an 
impossible  act  of  suicide  ;  and  because  the  Self 
refuses  to  figure  as  a  phenomenon  among  phenom- 
ena, or  complacently  to  fit  in  to  a  purely  scientific 
view  of  the  world,  they  set  about  the  hopeless  task 
of  su[)pressing  it  altogether.  Enough  has  already 
been  said  on  this  point  to  permit  me  to  i)ass  it  by. 
I  will,  therefore,  only  observe  that  those  who  ask  us 
to  reject  the  conviction  entertained   by  each  one  of 


312  SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY 

US,  that  he  does  actually  and  effectually  intervene  in 
the  material  world,  may  have  many  grounds  of  ob- 
jection to  theology,  but  should  certainly  not  include 
among  them  the  reproach  that  it  asks  us  to  believe 
the  incredible. 

But,  in  truth,  without  going  into  the  metaphysics 
of  the  Self,  our  previous  discussions  ^  contain  ample 

'  Cf.  ante.  Part  II.,  Chaps.  I.  and  II.  It  may  be  worth  while 
reminding  the  reader  of  one  set  of  difficulties  to  which  I  have  made 
little  reference  in  the  text.  Every  theory  of  the  relation  between 
Will,  or,  more  strictly,  the  Willing  Self  and  Matter  must  come  under 
one  of  two  heads  :^(i)  Either  Will  acts  on  Matter,  or  (2)  it  does 
not.  If  it  does  act  on  Matter,  it  must  be  either  as  Free  Will  or  as 
Determined  Will.  If  it  is  as  Free  Will,  it  upsets  the  uniformity  of 
Nature,  and  our  most  fundamental  scientific  conceptions  must  be 
recast.  If  it  is  as  Determined,  Will  that  is  to  say,  if  volition  be  in- 
terpolated as  a  necessary  link  between  one  set  of  material  move- 
ments and  another,  then,  indeed,  it  leaves  the  uniformity  of  Nature 
untouched ;  but  it  violates  mechanical  principles.  According  to 
the  mechanical  view  of  the  world,  the  condition  of  any  material  sys- 
tem at  one  moment  is  absolutely  determined  by  its  condition  at  the 
preceding  moment.  In  a  world  so  conceived  there  is  no  room  for 
the  interpolation  even  of  Determined  Will  among  the  causes  of  ma- 
terial change.     It  is  mere  surplusage. 

(2. )  If  the  Will  does  not  act  on  Matter,  then  we  must  suppose 
either  that  volition  belongs  to  a  psychic  series  running  in  a  parallel 
stream  to  the  physiological  changes  of  the  brain,  though  neither  in- 
fluenced by  it  nor  influencing  it — which  is,  of  course,  the  ancient 
theory  of  pre-established  harmony ;  or  else  we  must  suppose  that 
it  is  a  kind  of  superfluous  consequence  of  certain  physiological 
changes,  produced  presumably  without  the  exhaustion  of  any  form 
of  energy,  and  having  no  effect  whatever,  either  upon  the  material 
world  or,  I  suppose,  upon  other  psychic  conditions.  This  reduces 
us  to  automata,  and  automata  of  a  kind  very  difficult  to  find  proper 
accommodation  for  in  a  world  scientifically  conceived. 

None  of  these  alternatives  seem  very  attractive,  but  one  of  them 
would  seem  to  be  inevitable. 


SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY  313 

material  for  showing  how  impenetrable  are  the  mists 
which  obscure  the  relation  of  mind  to  matter,  of 
things  to  the  perception  of  things.  Neither  can  be 
eliminated  from  our  system.  Both  must  perforce 
form  elements  in  every  adequate  representation  of 
reality.  Yet  the  philosophic  artist  has  still  to  arise 
who  shall  combine  the  two  into  a  single  picture, 
without  doing  serious  violence  to  essential  features, 
either  of  the  one  or  the  other.  I  am  myself,  indeed, 
disposed  to  doubt  whether  any  concession  made  by 
the  'subjective'  to  the  'objective,'  or  by  the  *  ob- 
jective' to  the  'subjective,'  short  of  the  total  de- 
struction of  one  or  the  other,  will  avail  to  produce 
a  harmonious  scheme.  And  certainly  no  discord 
could  be  so  barren,  so  unsatisfying,  so  practically 
impossible,  as  a  harmony  attained  at  such  a  cost. 
We  must  acquiesce,  then,  in  the  existence  of  an  un- 
solved difficulty.  But  it  is  a  difficulty  which  meets 
us,  in  an  even  more  intractable  form,  when  we  strive 
to  realise  the  nature  of  our  own  relations  to  the  little 
world  in  which  we  move,  than  when  we  are  dealing 
with  a  like  problem  in  respect  to  the  Divine  Spirit, 
Who  is  the  Ground  of  all  being  and  the  Source  of 
all  change. 

IV 

But  though  there  should  thus  be  no  conflict 
between  theology  and  science,  cither  as  to  the  exist- 
ence of  God  or  as  to  tiic  possibility  of  His  acting 
DU  phenomena,  it  by  no  means  follows  ihat  the  idea 


3!4  SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY 

of  God  which  is  suggested  by  science  is  compatible 
with  the  idea  of  God  which  is  developed  by  theology. 
Identical,  of  course,  they  need  not  be.  Theology 
would  be  unnecessary  if  all  we  are  capable  of  learn- 
ing about  God  could  be  inferred  from  a  study  of 
Nature.  Compatible,  however,  they  seemingly  must 
be,  if  science  and  religion  are  to  be  at  one. 

And  yet  I  know  not  whether  those  who  are  most 
persuaded  that  the  claims  of  these  two  powers  are 
irreconcilable  rest  their  case  willingly  upon  the  most 
striking  incongruity  between  them  which  can  be 
produced — I  mean  the  existence  of  misery  and  the 
triumphs  of  wrong.  Yet  no  one  is,  or,  indeed,  could 
be,  blind  to  the  ditiQculty  which  thence  arises.  From 
the  world  as  presented  to  us  by  science  we  might 
conjecture  a  God  of  power  and  a  God  of  reason  ; 
but  we  never  could  infer  a  God  who  was  wholly 
loving  and  wholly  just.  So  that  what  religion  pro- 
claims aloud  to  be  His  most  essential  attributes  are 
precisely  those  respecting  which  the  oracles  of 
science  are  doubtful  or  are  dumb. 

One  reason,  I  suppose,  why  this  insistent  thought 
does  not,  so  far  as  my  observation  goes,  supply  a 
favourite  weapon  of  controversial  attack,  is  that 
ethics  is  obviously  as  much  interested  in  the  moral 
attributes  of  God  as  theology  can  ever  be  (a  point 
to  which  I  shall  presently  return).  But  another 
reason,  no  doubt,  may  be  found  in  the  fact  that  the 
difficulty  is  one  which  has  been  profoundly  realised 
bv  religious  minds  ages  before  organised  science  can 


SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY  315 

be  said  to  have  existed  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  growth  of  scientific  knowledge  has  neither  in- 
creased nor  diminished  the  burden  of  it  by  a  feather- 
weight. The  question,  therefore,  seems,  though  not, 
1  think,  quite  correctly,  to  be  one  which  is  wholly, 
as  it  were,  within  the  frontiers  of  theology,  and 
which  theologians  may,  therefore,  be  left  to  deal 
with  as  best  they  may,  undisturbed  by  any  argu- 
ments supplied  by  science.  If  this  be  not  in  theory 
strictly  true,  it  is  in  practice  but  little  wide  of  the 
mark.  The  facts  which  raise  the  problem  in  its 
acutest  form  belong,  indeed,  to  that  portion  of  the 
experience  of  life  which  is  the  common  property  of 
science  and  theology  ;  but  theology  is  much  more 
deeply  concerned  in  them  than  science  can  ever  be, 
and  has  long  faced  the  unsolved  problem  which  they 
present.  The  weight  which  it  has  thus  borne  for 
all  these  centuries  is  not  likely  now  to  crush  it ;  and, 
paradoxical  though  it  seems,  it  is  yet  surely  true, 
that  what  is  a  theological  stumbling-block  may  also 
be  a  religious  aid  ;  and  that  is  in  part  the  thought 
of  '  all  creation  groaning  and  travailing  in  pain  to- 
gether, waiting  for  redemption,'  which  creates  in 
man  the  deepest  need  for  faith  in  the  love  of  God. 


I  conceive,  then,  that  those  who  talk  of  the  '  con- 
flict between  science  and  relioion  '  do  not,  as  a  rule, 
refer  to  the  difficulty  presented  by  tlie  existence  of 


3l6  SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY 

Evil.  Where,  then,  in  their  opinion,  is  the  point  of 
irreconcilable  difference  to  be  found?  It  will,  I  sup- 
pose, at  once  be  replied,  in  Miracles.  But  though 
the  answer  has  in  it  a  measure  of  truth,  though,  with- 
out doubt,  it  is  possible  to  approach  the  real  kernel 
of  the  problem  from  the  side  of  miracles,  I  confess 
this  seems  to  me  to  be  in  fact  but  seldom  accom- 
plished ;  while  the  very  term  is  more  suggestive  of 
controversy,  wearisome,  unprofitable,  and  unending, 
than  any  other  in  the  language.  Free  Will  alone  be- 
ing excepted.  Into  this  Serbonian  bog  I  scarcely 
dare  ask  the  reader  to  follow  me,  though  the  advent- 
ure must,  I  am  afraid,  be  undertaken  if  the  purpose 
of  this  chapter  is  to  be  accomplished. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  it  seems  to  me  unfort- 
unate that  the  principle  of  the  Uniformity  of  Nat- 
ure should  so  often  be  dragged  into  a  controversy 
with  which  its  connection  is  so  dubious  and  obscure. 
For  what  do  we  mean  by  saying  that  Nature  is  uni- 
form ?  We  may  mean,  perhaps  we  ought  to  mean, 
that  (leaving  Free  Will  out  of  account)  the  condition 
of  the  world  at  one  moment  is  so  connected  with  its 
condition  at  the  next,  that  if  we  could  imagine  it 
brought  twice  into  exactly  the  same  position,  its 
subsequent  history  would  in  each  case  be  exactly 
the  same.  Now  no  one,  I  suppose,  imagines  that  uni- 
formity in  this  sense  has  any  quarrel  with  miracles. 
If  a  miracle  is  a  wonder  wrought  by  God  to  meet 
the  needs  arising  out  of  the  special  circumstances  of 
a  particular  moment,   then,  supposing  the  circum- 


SCIENCE   AND    THEOLOGY  317 

Stances  were  to  recur,  as  they  would  if  the  world 
were  twice  to  pass  through  the  same  phase,  the 
miracle,  we  cannot  doubt,  would  recur  also.  It  is 
not  possible  to  suppose  that  the  uniformity  of  Nat- 
ure thus  broadly  interpreted  would  be  marred  by 
Him  on  Whom  Nature  depends,  and  Who  is  im- 
manent in  all  its  changes. 

But  it  will  be  replied  that  the  uniformity  with 
which  miracles  are  thus  said  to  be  consistent  carries 
with  it  no  important  consequences  whatever.  Its 
truth  or  untruth  is  a  matter  of  equal  indifference  to 
the  practical  man,  the  man  of  science,  and  the  phi- 
losopher. It  asserts  in  reality  (it  may  be  said)  no 
more  than  this,  that  if  history  once  began  repeating 
itself,  it  would  go  on  doing  so,  like  a  recurring  dec- 
imal. But  as  history  in  fact  never  does  exactly  re- 
peat itself,  as  the  universe  never  is  twice  over  pre- 
cisely in  the  same  condition,  we  should  no  more  be 
able  to  judge  the  future  from  the  past,  or  to  detect 
the  operation  of  particular  laws  of  Nature  in  a  world 
where  only  this  kind  of  theoretic  uniformity  pre- 
vailed, than  we  should  under  the  misrule  of  chaos 
and  blind  chance. 

There  is  force  in  these  observations,  which  are, 
however,  much  more  embarrassing  to  the  philos- 
ophy of  science  than  to  that  of  theology.  Without 
doubt  all  experimental  inference,  as  well  as  the  or- 
dinary conduct  of  life,  depends  on  supplementing 
this  general  view  of  the  uniformit)^  of  Nature  with 
certain  working  hypotheses  which  are  not  always, 


3l8  SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY 

though  they  ought  to  be,  most  carefully  distin- 
guished from  it.  One  of  these  is,  that  Nature  is 
not  merely  uniform  as  a  whole,  but  is  made  up  of  a 
bundle  of  smaller  uniformities ;  or,  in  other  words, 
that  there  is  a  determinate  relation,  not  only  be- 
tween the  successive  phases  of  the  whole  universe, 
but  between  successive  phases  of  certain  fragments 
of  it ;  which  successive  phases  we  commonly  de- 
scribe as  '  causes '  and  '  effects.'  Another  of  these 
working  hypotheses  is,  that  though  the  universe  as 
a  whole  never  repeats  itself,  these  isolated  fragments 
of  it  do.  And  a  third  is,  that  we  have  means  at  our 
disposal  whereby  these  fragments  can  be  accurately 
divided  off  from  the  rest  of  Nature,  and  confidently 
recognised  when  they  recur.  Now  I  doubt  whether 
any  one  of  these  three  presuppositions — which,  be  it 
noted,  lie  at  the  very  root  of  the  collection  of  em- 
pirical maxims  which  we  dignify  with  the  name  of 
inductive  logic — can,  from  the  point  of  view  of  philos- 
ophy, be  regarded  as  more  than  an  approximation. 
It  is  hard  to  believe  that  the  concrete  Whole  of 
things  can  be  thus  cut  up  into  independent  portions. 
It  is  still  harder  to  believe  that  any  such  portion  is 
ever  repeated  absolutely  unaltered ;  since  its  char- 
acter must  surely  in  part  depend  upon  its  relation 
to  all  the  other  portions,  which  (by  hypothesis)  are 
not  repeated  with  it.  And  it  is  quite  impossible  to 
believe  that  inductive  logic  has  succeeded  by  any 
of  its  methods  in  providing  a  sure  criterion  for  de- 
termining, when  any  such  portion  is  apparentlj^  re- 


SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY  319 

peated,  whether  all  the  elements,  and  not  more  than 
all,  are  again  present  which  on  previous  occasions 
did  really  constitute  it  a  case  of  '  cause '  and  '  effect.'  ^ 

If  this  seems  paradoxical,  it  is  chiefly  because 
we  habitually  use  phraseology  which,  strictly  inter- 
preted, seems  to  imply  that  a  '  law  of  Nature,'  as  it 
is  called,  is  a  sort  of  self-subsisting  entity,  to  whose 
charge  is  confided  some  department  in  the  world 
of  phenomena,  over  which  it  rules  with  undisputed 
sway.  Of  course  this  is  not  so.  In  the  world  of 
phenomena.  Reality  is  exhausted  by  what  is  and 
what  happens.  Beyond  this  there  is  nothing.  These 
'  laws '  are  merely  abstractions  devised  by  us  for 
our  own  guidance  through  the  complexities  of  fact. 
They  possess  neither  independent  powers  nor  actual 
existence.  And  if  we  would  use  language  with  per- 
fect accuracy,  we  ought,  it  would  seem,  either  to 
say  that  the  same  cause  would  always  be  followed 
by  precisely  the  same  effect,  if  it  recurred — which 
it  never  does;  or  that,  in  certain  regions  of  Nature, 
though  only  in  certain  regions,  we  can  detect  sub- 
ordinate uniformities  of  repetition  which,  though 
not  exact,  enable  us  without  sensible  insecurity  or 
error  to  anticipate  the  future  or  reconstruct  the 
past. 

This  hurried  glance  which  I  have  asked  the 
reader  to  take  into  some  obscure  corners  of  induc- 
tive theory  is  by  no  means  intended  to  suggest  that 

'  Sec  some  of  these  points  more  fully  worked  out  in  Pliiloxophic 
Doubt,  Part  I.,  Chap.  II. 


320  SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY 

it  is  as  easy  to  believe  in  a  miracle  as  not ;  or  even 
that  on  other  grounds,  presently  to  be  referred  to, 
miracles  ought  not  to  be  regarded  as  incredible. 
But  it  does  show,  in  my  judgment,  that  no  profit  can 
yet  be  extracted  from  controversies  as  to  the  pre- 
cise relation  in  which  they  stand  to  the  Order  of 
the  world.  Those  engaged  in  these  controversies 
have  not  uncommonly  committed  a  double  error. 
They  have,  in  the  first  place,  chosen  to  assume  that 
we  have  a  perfectly  clear  and  generally  accepted 
theory  as  to  what  is  meant  by  the  Uniformity  of 
Nature,  as  to  what  is  meant  by  particular  Laws  of 
Nature,  as  to  the  relation  in  which  the  particular 
Laws  stand  to  the  general  Uniformity,  and  as  to  the 
kind  of  proof  by  which  each  is  to  be  established. 
And,  having  committed  this  philosophic  error,  they 
proceed  to  add  to  it  the  historical  error  of  crediting 
primitive  theology  with  a  knowledge  of  this  theory, 
and  with  a  desire  to  improve  upon  it.  They  seem 
to  suppose  that  apostles  and  prophets  were  in  the 
habit  of  looking  at  the  natural  world  in  its  ordinary 
course,  with  the  eyes  of  an  eighteenth-century  deist, 
as  if  it  were  a  bundle  of  uniformities  which,  once 
set  going,  went  on  for  ever  automatically  repeating 
themselves;  and  that  their  message  to  mankind  con- 
sisted in  announcing  the  existence  of  another,  or 
supernatural  world,  which  occasionally  upset  one 
or  two  of  these  natural  uniformities  by  means  of  a 
miracle.  No  such  theory  can  be  extracted  from 
their  writings,  and  no  such  theory  should  be  read 


SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY  321 

into  them  ;  and  this  not  merely  because  such  an  at- 
tribution is  unhistorical,  nor  yet  because  there  is 
any  ground  for  doubting  the  interaction  of  the 
'  spiritual '  and  the  '  natural ' ;  but  because  this  ac- 
count of  the  'natural'  itself  is  one  which,  if  inter- 
preted strictl}-,  seems  open  to  grave  philosophical 
objection,  and  is  certainly  deficient  in  philosophic 
proof. 

The  real  difihculties  connected  with  theological 
miracles  lie  elsewhere.  Two  qualities  seem  to  be  of 
their  essence :  they  must  be  wonders,  and  they  must 
be  wonders  due  to  the  special  action  of  Divine  power ; 
and  each  of  these  qualities  raises  a  special  problem  of 
its  own.  That  raised  by  the  first  is  the  question  of 
evidence.  What  amount  of  evidence,  if  an}',  is  suf- 
ficient to  render  a  miracle  credible?  And  on  this, 
which  is  apart  from  the  main  track  of  ni)-  argument, 
I  may  perhaps  content  myself  with  pointing  out, 
that  if  by  evidence  is  meant,  as  it  usually  is,  histor- 
ical testimony,  this  is  not  a  fixed  quantity,  the  same 
for  every  reasonable  man,  no  matter  what  may  be 
his  other  opinions.  It  varies,  and  must  necessaril}' 
var}',  with  the  general  views,  the  '  psychological 
climate,'  which  he  brings  to  its  consideration.  It  is 
])()ssible  to  get  twelve  plain  men  to  agree  on  the  evi- 
(1(  nee  which  requires  them  to  bring  in  a  verdict  of 
guilty  or  not  guilt}^  because  they  start  with  a  com- 
mon stock  of  presuppositions,  in  the  light  of  which 
Ihe  evidence  submitted  to  them  may,  without  pre- 
liminary discussion,  be  interpreted.     But   when,  as 

21 


322  SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY 

in  the  case  of  theological  miracles,  there  is  no  such 
common  stock,  any  agreement  on  a  verdict  can 
scarcely  be  looked  for.  One  of  the  jury  may  hold 
the  naturalistic  view  of  the  world.  To  him,  of 
course,  the  occurrence  of  a  miracle  involves  the 
abandonment  of  the  whole  philosophy  in  terms  of 
which  he  is  accustomed  to  interpret  the  universe. 
Argument,  custom,  prejudice,  authority — every  con- 
viction-making machine,  rational  and  non-rational, 
by  which  his  scheme  of  belief  has  been  fashioned — ■ 
conspire  to  make  this  vast  intellectual  revolution 
difficult.  And  we  need  not  be  surprised  that  even 
the  most  excellent  evidence  for  a  few  isolated  inci- 
dents is  quite  insufficient  to  effect  his  conversion ; 
nor  that  he  occasionally  shows  a  disposition  to  go 
very  extraordinary  lengths  in  contriving  historical 
or  critical  theories  for  the  purpose  of  explaining 
such  evidence  away. 

Another  may  believe  in  *  verbal  inspiration.'  To 
him,  the  discussion  of  evidence  in  the  ordinary  sense 
is  quite  superfluous.  Every  miracle,  whatever  its 
character,  whatever  the  circumstances  in  which  it 
occurred,  whatever  its  relation,  whether  essential 
or  accidental,  to  the  general  scheme  of  religion,  is 
to  be  accepted  with  equal  confidence,  provided  it 
be  narrated  in  the  works  of  inspired  authors.  It  is 
written  :  it  is  therefore  true.  And  in  the  light  of 
this  presupposition  alone  must  the  results  of  any 
merel}'  critical  or  historical  discussion  be  finally 
judged. 


I 


SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY  323 

A  third  of  our  supposed  jurymen  may  reject 
both  naturalism  and  verbal  inspiration.  He  may 
appraise  the  evidence  alleged  in  favour  of '  Wonders 
due  to  the  special  action  of  Divine  power '  by  the 
light  of  an  altogether  different  theory  of  the  world 
and  of  God's  action  therein.  He  may  consider  re- 
ligion to  be  as  necessary  an  element  in  any  adequate 
scheme  of  belief  as  science  itself.  Every  event, 
therefore,  whether  wonderful  or  not,  a  belief  in 
whose  occurrence  is  involved  in  that  religion,  every 
event  by  whose  disproof  the  religion  would  be  seri- 
ously impoverished  or  altogether  destroyed,  has  be- 
hind it  the  whole  combined  strength  of  the  system 
to  which  it  belongs.  It  is  not,  indeed,  believe^'  in- 
dependently of  external  evidence,  any  more  than 
the  most  ordinary  occurrences  in  history  are  be- 
lieved independently  of  external  evidence.  But 
it  does  not  require,  as  some  people  appear  to  sup- 
pose, the  impossible  accumulation  of  proof  on  proof, 
of  testimonv  on  testimony,  before  the  presumption 
against  it  can  be  neutralised.  For,  in  truth,  no  such 
presumption  may  exist  at  all.  Strange  as  the  mira- 
cle must  seem,  and  inharmonious  when  considered 
as  an  alien  clement  in  an  otherwise  naturalistic  set- 
ting, it  may  assume  a  character  of  inevitableness,  it 
may  almost  proclaim  aloud  that  thus  it  has  occurred, 
and  not  otherwise,  to  those  who  consider  it  in  its  rela- 
tion, not  to  the  natural  world  alone,  but  to  the  spirit- 
ual, :uid  to  the  needs  of  man  as  a  citizen  of  both. 


324  SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY 


VI 


Many  other  varieties  of  '  psychological  climate  ' 
might  be  described ;  but  what  I  have  said  is,  perhaps, 
enough  to  show  how  absurd  it  is  to  expect  any 
unanimity  as  to  the  value  of  historical  evidence  until 
some  better  agreement  has  been  arrived  at  respect- 
ing the  presuppositions  in  the  light  of  which  alone 
such  evidence  can  be  estimated.  I  pass,  therefore, 
to  the  difficulty  raised  by  the  second,  and  much  more 
fundamental,  attribute  of  theological  miracles  to 
which  I  have  adverted,  namely,  that  they  are  due  to 
the  *  special  action  of  God.'  But  this,  be  it  ob- 
served, is,  from  a  religious  point  of  view,  no  pecul- 
iarity of  miracles.  Few  schemes  of  thought  which 
have  any  religious  flavour  about  them  at  all,  wholly 
exclude  the  idea  of  what  I  will  venture  to  call  the 
*  preferential  exercise  of  Divine  power,'  whatever 
differences  of  opinion  may  exist  as  to  the  manner  in 
which  it  is  manifested.  There  are  those  who  reject 
miracles  but  who,  at  least  in  those  fateful  moments 
when  they  imaginatively  realise  their  own  helpless- 
ness, will  admit  what  in  a  certain  literature  is  called 
a  '  special  Providence.'  There  are  those  who  reject 
the  notion  of  '  special  Providence,'  but  who  admit  a 
sort  of  Divine  superintendence  over  the  general 
course  of  history.  There  are  those,  again,  who  re- 
ject in  its  ordinar}^  shape  the  idea  of  Divine  super- 
intendence, but  who  conceive  that  they  can  escape 


SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY  325 

from  philosophic  reproach  by  beating  out  the  idea 
yet  a  little  thinner,  and  admitting  that  there  does 
exist  somewhere  a  '  Power  which  makes  for  right- 
eousness.' 

For  my  own  part,  I  think  all  these  various 
opinions  are  equally  open  to  the  only  form  of  attack 
which  it  is  worth  while  to  bring  against  any  one  of 
them.  And  if  we  allow,  as  (supposing  religion  in 
any  shape  to  be  true)  we  must  allow,  that  the  '  pref- 
erential action  '  of  Divine  power  is  possible,  nothing 
is  gained  by  qualifying  the  admission  with  all  those 
fanciful  limitations  and  distinctions  with  which  dif- 
ferent schools  of  thought  have  seen  tit  to  encumber 
it.  The  admission  itself,  however,  is  one  which,  in 
whatever  shape  it  may  be  made,  no  doubt  suggests 
questions  of  great  difficulty.  How  can  the  Divine 
Being  Who  is  the  Ground  and  Source  of  everything 
that  is,  Who  sustains  all,  directs  all,  produces  all,  be 
connected  more  closely  with  one  part  of  that  which 
He  has  created  than  with  another?  If  every  event 
be  wholly  due  to  Him, how  can  we  say  that  any  single 
event,  such  as  a  miracle,  or  any  tendency  of  events, 
such  as  'making  for  righteousness,'  is  specially  His? 
What  room  for  difference  or  distinction  is  there 
within  the  circuit  of  His  universal  power?  Since 
the  relation  between  His  creation  and  Him  is 
throughout  and  in  every  particular  one  of  absolute 
dependence,  what  meaning  can  we  attach  to  the 
metaphor  which  represents  Him  as  taking  part  with 
one  fragment  of  it,  or  as  hostile  to  another? 


326  SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY 

Now  it  has,  in  the  first  place,  to  be  observed  that 
ethics  is  almost  as  much  concerned  in  dealing  with 
this  difficulty  as  theology  itself.  For  if  we  cannot 
believe  in  '  preferential  action,'  neither  can  we  be- 
lieve in  the  moral  qualities  of  which  '  preferential 
action  '  is  the  sign ;  and  with  the  moral  qualities  of 
God  is  bound  up  the  fate  of  anything  which  deserves 
to  be  called  morality  at  all.  I  am  not  now  arguing 
that  ethics  cannot  exist  unsupported  by  theism.  On 
this  theme  I  have  already  said  something,  and  shall 
have  to  say  more.  My  present  contention  is,  that 
though  history  may  show  plenty  of  examples  in 
heathendom  of  ethical  theory  being  far  in  advance 
of  the  recognised  religion,  it  is  yet  impossible  to 
suppose  that  morality  would  not  ultimately  be  de- 
stroyed by  the  clearly  realised  belief  in  a  God  Who 
was  either  indifferent  to  good  or  inclined  to  evil. 

For  a  universe  in  which  all  the  power  was  on  the 
side  of  the  Creator,  and  all  the  morality  on  the  side 
of  creation,  would  be  one  compared  with  which  the 
universe  of  naturalism  would  shine  out  a  paradise 
indeed.  Even  the  poet  has  not  dared  to  represent 
Jupiter  torturing  Prometheus  without  the  dim  fig- 
ure of  Avenging  Fate  waiting  silently  in  the  back- 
pfround.  But  if  the  ideas  of  an  immoral  Creator 
governing  a  world  peopled  with  moral,  or  even 
with  sentient,  creatures,  is  a  speculative  nightmare, 
the  case  is  not  materially  mended  by  substituting 
for  an  immoral  Creator  an  indifferent  one.  Once 
assume  a  God,  and   we  shall  be  obliged,  sooner  or 


SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY  327 

later,  to  introduce  harmony  into  our  system  by 
making  obedience  to  His  will  coincident  with  the 
established  rules  of  conduct.  We  cannot  frame  our 
advice  to  mankind  on  the  hypothesis  that  to  defy 
Omnipotence  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom.  But  if 
this  process  of  adjustment  is  to  be  done  consistently 
with  the  maintenance  of  any  eternal  and  absolute 
distinction  between  right  and  wrong,  then  must  His 
will  be  a  'good  will,'  and  we  must  suppose  Him  to 
look  with  favour  upon  some  parts  of  this  mixed 
world  of  good  and  evil,  and  with  disfavour  upon 
others.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  this  distinction  seems 
to  us  metaphysically  impossible ;  if  we  cannot  do 
otherwise  than  regard  Him  as  related  in  precisely 
the  same  way  to  every  portion  of  His  creation,  look- 
ing with  indifferent  eyes  upon  misery  and  happiness, 
truth  and  error,  vice  and  virtue,  then  our  theology 
must  surely  drive  us,  under  whatever  disguise,  to 
empty  ethics  of  all  ethical  significance,  and  to  re- 
duce virtue  to  a  colourless  acquiescence  in  the  Ap- 
pointed Order. 

Systems  there  are  which  do  not  shrink  from 
these  speculative  conclusions.  But  their  authors 
will,  I  think,  be  found  rather  among  those  who  ap- 
proach the  problem  of  the  world  from  the  side  of  a 
particular  metaphysic,  than  those  who  approach  it 
from  the  side  of  science.  He  who  sees  in  God  no 
more  than  the  Infinite  Substance  of  which  the 
world  of  phenomena  constitutes  the  accidents,  or 
wh(j  requires  Him  for  no  (jther  purpose  than  as  In- 


328  SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY 

finite  Subject,  to  supply  the  '  unit}^ '  without  which 
the  world  of  phenomena  would  be  an  '  unmeaninp- 
flux  of  unconnected  particulars,'  may  naturally  sup- 
pose Him  to  be  equally  related  to  everything,  good 
or  bad,  that  has  been,  is,  or  can  be.  But  I  do  not 
think  that  the  man  of  science  is  similarly  situated ; 
for  the  doctrine  of  evolution  has  in  this  respect 
made  a  change  in  his  position  which,  curiously 
enough,  brings  it  closer  to  that  occupied  in  this 
matter  by  theology  and  ethics  than  it  was  in  the 
days  when  '  special  creation '  was  the  fashionable 
view. 

I  am  not  contending,  be  it  observed,  that  evolu- 
tion strengthens  the  evidence  for  theism.  My  point 
rather  is,  that  if  the  existence  of  God  be  assumed, 
evolution  does,  to  a  certain  extent,  harmonise  with 
that  belief  in  His  '  preferential  action  '  which  relig- 
ion and  morality  alike  require  us  to  attribute  to 
Him.  For  whereas  the  material  and  organic  world 
was  once  supposed  to  have  been  created  'all  of  a 
piece,'  and  to  show  contrivance  on  the  part  of  its 
Author  merely  by  the  machine-like  adjustment  of  its 
parts,  so  now  science  has  adopted  an  idea  which  has 
always  been  an  essential  part  of  the  Christian  view 
of  the  Divine  economy,  has  given  to  that  idea  an 
undreamed-of  extension,  has  applied  it  to  the  whole 
universe  of  phenomena,  organic  and  inorganic,  and 
has  returned  it  again  to  theology  enriched,  strength- 
ened, and  developed.  Can  we,  then,  think  of  evolu- 
tion in  a  God-created  world  without  attributing  to 


SCIENCE   AND   THEOLOGY  329 

its  Author  the  notion  of  purpose  slowly  worked 
out ;  the  striving  towards  something  which  is  not, 
but  which  gradually  becomes,  and  in  the  fulness  of 
time  will  be  ?  Surely  not.  But,  if  not,  can  it  be 
denied  that  evolution — the  evolution,  I  mean,  which 
takes  place  in  time,  the  natural  evolution  of  science, 
as  distinguished  from  the  dialectical  evolution  of 
metaphysics — does  involve  something  in  the  nature 
of  that  '  preferential  action '  which  it  is  so  difficult 
to  understand,  yet  so  impossible  to  abandon  ? 


CHAPTER  VI 

SUGGESTIONS  TOWARDS  A  PROVISIONAL  UNIFICATION 


But  if  I  confined  myself  to  saying  that  the  belief 
in  a  God  who  is  not  merely  '  substance,'  or  '  sub- 
ject,' but  is,  in  Biblical  language,  '  a  living  God,'  af- 
fords no  ground  of  quarrel  between  theology  and 
science,  I  should  much  understate  my  thought.  I 
hold,  on  the  contrary,  that  some  such  presupposi- 
tion is  not  only  tolerated,  but  is  actually  required, 
by  science ;  that  if  it  be  accepted  in  the  case  of 
science,  it  can  hardly  be  refused  in  the  case  of 
ethics,  aesthetics,  or  theology  ;  and  that  if  it  be  thus 
accepted  as  a  general  principle,  applicable  to  the 
whole  circuit  of  belief,  it  will  be  found  to  provide 
us  with  a  working  solution  of  some,  at  least,  of  the 
difficulties  with  which  naturalism  is  incompetent  to 
deal. 

For  what  was  it  that  lay  at  the  bottom  of  those 
difficulties  ?  Speaking  broadly,  it  may  be  described 
as  the  perpetual  collision,  the  ineffaceable  incon- 
gruity, between  the  origin  of  our  beliefs,  in  so  far 
as  these  can  be  revealed  to  us  by  science,  and  the 
beliefs  themselves.     This  it  was  that,  as   I  showed 


A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION  33 1 

in  the  first  part  of  this  Essay,  touched  with  the  frost 
of  scepticism  our  ideals  of  conduct  and  our  ideals 
of  beauty.  This  it  was  that,  as  I  showed  in  the 
Second  Part,  cut  down  scientific  philosophy  to  the 
root.  And  all  the  later  discussions  with  which  1 
have  occupied  the  attention  of  the  reader  serve 
but  to  emphasise  afresh  the  inextricable  confusion 
which  the  naturalistic  hypothesis  introduces  into 
every  department  of  practice  and  of  speculation,  by 
refusing  to  allow  us  to  penetrate  beyond  the  phe- 
nomenal causes  by  which,  in  the  order  of  Nature, 
our  beliefs  are  produced. 

Review  each  of  these  departments  in  turn,  and, 
in  the  light  of  the  preceding  discussion,  compare  its 
position  in  a  theological  setting  with  that  which  it 
necessarily  occupies  in  a  naturalistic  one.  Let  the 
case  of  science  be  taken  first,  for  it  is  a  crucial  one. 
Here,  if  anywhere,  we  might  suppose  ourselves  in- 
dependent of  theology.  Here,  if  anywhere,  we 
might  expect  to  be  able  to  acquiesce  without  embar- 
rassment in  the  negations  of  naturalism.  But  when 
once  we  have  realised  the  scientific  truth  that  at 
the  root  of  every  rational  process  lies  an  in-ational 
one ;  that  reason,  from  a  scientific  point  of  view,  is 
itself  a  natural  i)roduct ;  and  that  the  whole  mate- 
rial on  which  it  works  is  due  to  causes,  physical, 
j)hysi(jlogical,  and  social,  which  it  neither  creates 
nor  controls,  we  shall  (as  I  showed  just  now)  be 
driven  in  mere  self-defence  to  hold  that,  behind 
these  n(jn-rational  foixcs,  and  above  them,  guiding 


332  A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 

them  by  slow  degrees,  and,  as  it  were,  with  diffi- 
culty, to  a  rational  issue,  stands  that  Supreme  Rea- 
son in  whom  we  must  thus  believe,  if  we  are  to  be- 
lieve in  anything. 

Here,  then,  we  are  plunged  at  once  into  the 
middle  of  theology.  The  belief  in  God,  the  attribu- 
tion to  Him  of  reason,  and  of  what  I  have  called 
*  preferential  action '  in  relation  to  the  world  which 
He  has  created,  all  seem  forced  upon  us  by  the  sin- 
gle assumption  that  science  is  not  an  illusion,  and 
that,  with  the  rest  of  its  teaching,  we  must  accept 
what  it  has  to  say  to  us  about  itself  as  a  natural 
product.  At  no  smaller  cost  can  we  reconcile  the 
origins  of  science  with  its  pretentions,  or  relieve 
ourselves  of  the  embarrassments  in  which  we  are 
involved  by  a  naturalistic  theory  of  Nature.  But 
evidently  the  admission,  if  once  made,  cannot  stand 
alone.  It  is  impossible  to  refuse  to  ethical  beliefs 
what  we  have  already  conceded  to  scientific  beliefs. 
For  the  analogy  between  them  is  complete.  Both 
are  natural  products.  Neither  rank  among  their  re- 
moter causes  any  which  share  their  essence.  And 
as  it  is  easy  to  trace  back  our  scientific  beliefs  to 
sources  which  have  about  them  nothing  which  is 
rational,  so  it  is  easy  to  trace  back  our  ethical  be- 
liefs to  sources  which  have  about  them  nothing 
which  is  ethical.  Both  require  us,  therefore,  to  seek 
behind  these  phenomenal  sources  for  some  ultimate 
ground  with  which  they  shall  be  congruous ;  and  as 
we  have  been  moved  to  postulate  a  rational  God  in 


A   TROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION  333 

the  interests  of  science,  so  we  can  scarcely  decline 
to  postulate  a  moral  God  in  the  interests  of  moral- 
ity. 

But,  manifestly,  those  who  have  gone  thus  far 
cannot  rest  here.  If  we  are  to  assign  a  'providen- 
tial' origin  to  the  long  and  complex  train  of  events 
which  have  resulted  in  the  recognition  of  a  moral 
law,  we  must  embrace  within  the  same  theory  those 
sentiments  and  influences,  without  which  a  moral 
law  would  tend  to  become  a  mere  catalogue  of  com- 
mandments, possessed,  it  may  be,  of  an  undisputed 
authority,  but  obtaining  on  that  account  but  little 
obedience.  This  was  the  point  on  which  I  dwelt  at 
length  in  the  first  portion  of  this  Essay.  I  then 
showed,  that  if  the  pedigrees  of  conscience,  of  our 
ethical  ideals,  of  our  capacity  for  admiration,  for 
sympathy,  for  repentance,  for  righteous  indignation, 
were  finall}-  to  lose  themselves  among  the  accidental 
variations  on  which  Selection  does  its  work,  it  was 
inconceivable  that  they  should  retain  their  virtue 
when  once  the  creed  of  naturalism  had  thoroughly 
penetrated  and  discoloured  every  mood  of  thought 
and  belief.  But  if,  deserting  naturalism,  wc  regard 
the  evolutionary  process  issuing  in  these  ethical  re- 
sults as  an  instrument  for  carrying  out  a  Divine 
purpose,  the  natural  history  of  the  higher  sentiments 
is  seen  under  a  wholly  different  light.  They  may 
be  due,  doubtless  they  are  in  fact  due,  to  the  same 
selective  mechanism  which  produces  the  most  cruel 
and  the  most  disgusting  of  Nature's  contrivances  for 


334  A    PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 

protecting  the  species  of  some  loathsome  parasite. 
Between  the  two  cases  science  cannot,  and  natural- 
ism will  not,  draw  any  valid  distinction.  But  here 
theology  steps  in,  and  by  the  conception  of  design 
revolutionises  our  point  of  view.  The  most  un- 
lovely germ  of  instinct  or  of  appetite  to  which  we 
trace  back  the  origin  of  all  that  is  most  noble  and  of 
good  report,  no  longer  throws  discredit  upon  its 
developed  offshoots.  Rather  is  it  consecrated  by 
them.  For  if,  in  the  region  of  Causation,  it  is  wholly 
by  the  earlier  stages  that  the  later  are  determined, 
in  the  region  of  Design  it  is  only  through  the  later 
stages  that  the  earlier  can  be  understood. 

But  if  these  be  the  consequences  which  flow  from 
substituting  a  theological  for  a  naturalistic  inter- 
pretation of  science,  of  ethics,  and  of  ethical  senti- 
ments, what  changes  will  the  same  process  effect  in 
our  conception  of  aesthetics?  Naturalism,  as  we 
saw,  destroys  the  possibility  of  objective  beauty— of 
beauty  as  a  real,  persistent  quality  of  objects ;  and 
leaves  nothing  but  feelings  of  beauty  on  the  one 
side,  and  on  the  other  a  miscellaneous  assortment  of 
objects,  called  beautiful  in  their  moments  of  favour, 
by  which,  through  the  chance  operation  of  obscure 
associations,  at  some  period,  and  in  some  persons, 
these  feelings  of  beauty  are  aroused.  A  conclusion 
of  this  kind  no  doubt  leaves  us  chilled  and  depressed 
spectators  of  our  own  aesthetic  enthusiasms.  And 
it  may  be  that  to  put  the  scientific  theory  in  a  theo- 
logical setting,  instead  of  in  a  naturalistic  one,  will 


A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION  335 

not  wholly  remove  the  unsatisfactory  effect  which 
the  theory  itself  may  leave  upon  the  mind.  And 
yet  it  surely  does  something.  If  we  cannot  say  that 
Beauty  is  in  any  particular  case  an  '  objective '  fact, 
in  the  sense  in  which  science  requires  us  to  believe 
that  'mass,'  for  example,  and  'configuration,'  are 
'  objective '  facts,  we  are  not  precluded  on  that 
account  from  referring  our  feeling  of  it  to  God,  nor 
from  supposing  that  in  the  thrill  of  some  deep  emo- 
tion we  have  for  an  instant  caught  a  far-off  reflec- 
tion of  Divine  beauty.  This  is,  indeed,  my  faith  ; 
and  in  it  the  differences  of  taste  which  divide  man- 
kind lose  all  their  harshness.  For  we  may  liken 
ourselves  to  the  members  of  some  endless  proces- 
sion winding  along  the  borders  of  a  sunlit  lake. 
Towai-ds  each  individual  there  will  shine  along  its 
surface  a  moving  lane  of  splendour,  where  the 
ripples  catch  and  deflect  the  light  in  his  direction  ; 
while  on  either  hand  the  waters,  which  to  his  neigh- 
bour's eyes  are  brilliant  in  the  sun,  for  him  lie  dull 
and  undistinguished.  So  may  all  possess  a  like  en- 
joyment of  loveliness.  So  do  all  owe  it  to  one  un- 
changing Source.  And  if  there  be  an  endless 
variety  in  the  immediate  objects  from  which  we 
severally  derive  it,  I  know  not,  after  all,  that  this 
should  furnish  any  matter  for  regret. 


336  A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 


II 


And,  lastly,  we  come  to  theology,  denied  by 
naturalism  to  be  a  branch  of  knowledge  at  all,  but 
whose  truth  we  have  been  obliged  to  assume  in 
order  to  find  a  basis  for  the  only  knowledge  which 
naturalism  allows. 

Those  who  are  prepared  to  admit  that,  in  dealing 
with  the  causes  of  scientific  and  ethical  belief,  the 
theory  which  offers  least  difficulty  is  that  which 
assumes  them  to  have  been  '  providentially '  guided, 
are  not  likely  to  raise  objections  to  a  similar  theory 
in  the  case  of  religion.  For  here,  at  least,  might  we 
expect  preferential  Divine  intervention,  supposing 
such  intervention  were  anywhere  possible.  Much 
more,  then,  if  it  be  accepted  as  actual  in  other  regions 
of  belief.  And  this  is,  in  fact,  the  ordinary  view  of 
mankind.  They  have  almost  always  claimed  for 
their  beliefs  about  God  that  they  were  due  to  God. 
The  belief  in  religion  has  almost  always  carried  with 
it,  in  some  shape  or  other,  the  belief  in  Inspiration. 

To  this  rule  there  is,  no  doubt,  to  be  found  an 
apparent  exception  in  what  is  known  as  natural  re- 
ligion— natural  religion  being  defined  as  the  religion 
to  which  unassisted  reason  may  attain,  in  contrast 
to  that  which  can  be  reached  only  by  the  aid  of  rev- 
elation. But,  for  my  own  part,  I  object  altogether 
to  the  theory  underlying  this  distinction.  I  do  not 
believe   that,  strictly   speaking,   there    is  any  such 


A    PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION  337 

thing  as  '  unassisted  reason.'  And  I  am  sure  that  if 
there  be,  the  conclusions  of  '  natural  religion  '  are  not 
among  its  products.  The  attentive  reader  does  not 
require  to  be  told  that,  according  to  the  views  here 
advocated,  every  idea  involved  in  such  a  proposition 
as  that  *  There  is  a  moral  Creator  and  Ruler  of  the 
world  '  (which  I  may  assume,  for  purposes  of  illus- 
tration, to  constitute  the  substance  of  natural  re- 
ligion) is  due  to  a  complex  of  causes,  of  which  human 
reason  was  not  the  most  important;  and  that  this 
natural  religion  never  would  have  been  heard  of, 
much  less  have  been  received  with  approval,  had  it 
not  been  for  that  traditional  religion  of  which  it 
vainly  supposes  itself  to  be  independent. 

But  if  this  way  of  considering  the  matter  be  ac- 
cepted ;  if  we  are  to  apply  unaltered,  in  the  case  of 
religious  beliefs,  the  procedure  already  adopted  in 
the  case  of  scientific,  ethical,  and  aesthetic  beliefs, 
and  assume  for  them  a  Cause  harmonious  with  their 
essential  nature,  we  must  cvidentl}^  in  so  doing  trans- 
cend the  common  division  between  '  natural '  and 
'  sii[>ernatural.'  We  cannot  consent  to  see  the  'pref- 
erential working  of  Divine  power'  only  in  those 
religious  manifestations  which  refuse  to  accommo- 
date themselves  to  our  conception  (whatever  that 
may  be)  of  the  strictly  '  natural '  order  of  the  world  ; 
nor  can  we  deny  a  Divine  origin  to  those  aspects  of 
religious  development  which  natural  laws  seem  com- 
jictent  to  explain.  The  familiar  distinction,  indeed, 
between     '  natural  '    and     '  suj)crnatural  '    coincides 

22 


338  A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 

neither  with  that  between  natural  and  spiritual,  nor 
with  that  between  '  preferential  action '  and  '  non- 
preferential,'  nor  with  that  between  '  phenomenal ' 
and  '  noumenal.'  It  is,  perhaps,  less  important  than 
is  sometimes  supposed ;  and  in  this  particular  con- 
nection, at  all  events,  is,  as  it  seems  to  me,  merely 
irrelevant  and  confusing — a  burden,  not  an  aid,  to 
religious  speculation. 

For,  whatever  difference  there  may  be  between 
the  growth  of  theological  knowledge  and  of  other 
knowledge,  their  resemblances  are  both  numerous 
and  instructive.  In  both  we  note  that  movement 
has  been  sometimes  so  rapid  as  to  be  revolutionary, 
sometimes  so  slow  as  to  be  imperceptible.  In  both, 
that  it  has  been  sometimes  an  advance,  sometimes 
a  retrogression.  In  both,  that  it  has  been  some- 
times on  lines  permitting  a  long,  perhaps  an  indefi- 
nite, development,  sometimes  in  directions  where  far- 
ther progress  seems  barred  for  ever.  In  both,  that 
the  higher  is,  from  the  point  of  view  of  science, 
largely  produced  by  the  lower.  In  both,  that,  from 
the  point  of  view  of  our  provisional  philosophy,  the 
lower  is  only  to  be  explained  by  the  higher.  In 
both,  that  the  final  product  counts  among  its  causes 
a  vast  multitude  of  physiological,  psychological, 
political,  and  social  antecedents  with  which  it  has  no 
direct  rational  or  spiritual  affiliation. 

How,  then,  can  we  most  completely  absorb  these 
facts  into  our  theory  of  Inspiration?  It  would,  no 
doubt,  be  inaccurate  to  say  that  inspiration  is  that, 


A    PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION  339 

seen  from  its  Divine  side,  which  we  call  discovery 
when  seen  from  the  human  side.  But  it  is  not,  I 
think,  inaccurate  to  say  that  every  addition  to  knowl- 
edge, whether  in  the  individual  or  the  community, 
whether  scientific,  ethical,  or  theological,  is  due  to  a 
co-operation  between  the  human  soul  which  assimi- 
lates and  the  Divine  power  which  inspires.  Neither 
acts,  or,  as  far  as  we  can  pronounce  upon  such  mat- 
ters, could  act,  in  independent  isolation.  For  '  un- 
assisted reason  '  is,  as  I  have  already  said,  a  fiction : 
and  pure  receptivity  it  is  impossible  to  conceive. 
Even  the  emptiest  vessel  must  limit  the  quantity 
and  determine  the  configuration  of  any  liquid  with 
which  it  may  be  filled. 

But  because  this  view  involves  a  use  of  the  term 
'inspiration'  which,  ignoring  all  minor  distinctions, 
extends  it  to  every  case  in  which  the  production  of 
belief  is  due  to  the  'preferential  action'  of  Divine 
power,  it  does  not,  of  course,  follow  that  minor  dis- 
tinctions do  not  exist.  All  I  wish  here  to  insist  on 
is,  that  the  sphere  of  Divine  influence  in  matters  of 
belief  exists  as  a  whole,  and  may  therefore  be  studied 
as  a  whole  ;  and  that,  not  improbably,  to  study  it  as 
a  whole  would  prove  no  unprofitable  preliminary  to 
any  examination  into  the  character  of  its  more  im- 
portant parts. 

So  studied,  it  becomes  evident  that  Inspiration,  if 
this  use  of  the  word  is  to  be  allowed,  is  limited  to  no 
age,  to  no  country,  to  no  people.  It  is  required  by 
those  who  learn  ntjt  less  than  by  tiiose  who  teach. 


340  A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 

Wherever  an  approach  has  been  made  to  truth, 
wherever  any  individual  soul  has  assimilated  some 
old  discovery,  or  has  forced  the  secret  of  a  new  one, 
there  is  its  co-operation  to  be  discovered.  Its  work- 
ings are  to  be  traced  not  merely  in  the  later  devel- 
opment of  behefs,  but  far  back  among  their  unhon- 
oured  beginnings.  Its  aid  has  been  granted  not 
merely  along  the  main  line  of  religious  progress,  but 
in  the  side-alleys  to  which  there  seems  no  issue. 
Are  we,  for  example,  to  find  a  full  measure  of  inspi- 
ration in  the  highest  utterances  of  Hebrew  prophet 
or  psalmist,  and  to  suppose  that  the  primitive  relig- 
ious conceptions  common  to  the  Semitic  race  had  in 
them  no  touch  of  the  Divine?  Hardly,  if  we  also 
believe  that  it  was  these  primitive  conceptions  which 
the  '  Chosen  People '  were  divinely  ordained  to  pu- 
rify, to  elevate,  and  to  expand  until  they  became 
fitting  elements  in  a  religion  adequate  to  the  neces- 
sities of  a  world.  Are  we,  again,  to  deny  any  meas- 
ure of  inspiration  to  the  ethico-religious  teaching  of 
the  great  Oriental  reformers,  because  there  was 
that  in  their  general  systems  of  doctrine  which  pre- 
vented, and  still  prevents,  these  from  merging  as  a 
whole  in  the  main  stream  of  religious  advance  ? 
Hardly,  unless  we  are  prepared  to  admit  that  men 
may  gather  grapes  from  thorns  or  figs  from  thistles. 
These  things  assuredly  are  of  God  ;  and  whatever 
be  the  terms  in  which  we  choose  to  express  our 
faith,  let  us  not  give  colour  to  the  opinion  that  His 
assistance  to  mankind  has  been  narrowed  down  to 


A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION  341 

the  sources,  however  unique,  from  which  we  imme- 
diately, and  consciously,  draw  our  own  spiritual 
nourishment. 

If  a  preference  is  shown  by  any  for  a  more 
limited  conception  of  the  Divine  intervention  in 
matters  of  belief,  it  must,  I  suppose,  be  on  one  of 
two  grounds.  It  may,  in  the  first  place,  arise  out 
of  a  natural  reluctance  to  force  into  the  same  cate- 
gory the  transcendent  intuitions  of  prophet  or 
apostle  and  the  stammering  utterances  of  earlier 
faiths,  clouded  as  these  are  by  human  ignorance 
and  marred  by  human  sin.  Things  spiritually  so  far 
asunder  ought  not,  it  may  be  thought,  by  any  sys- 
tem of  classification,  to  be  brought  together.  They 
belong  to  separate  worlds.  They  differ  not  merely 
infinitely  in  degree,  but  absolutely  in  kind ;  and  a 
risk  of  serious  error  must  arise  if  the  same  term  is 
loosely  and  hastily  applied  to  things  which,  in  their 
essential  nature,  lie  so  far  apart. 

Now,  that  there  may  be,  or,  rather,  plainly  are, 
many  modes  in  which  belief  is  assisted  by  Divine 
co-operation  I  have  already  admitted.  That  the 
word  '  inspiration  '  may,  with  advantage,  be  con- 
fined to  one  or  more  of  these  I  do  not  desire  to 
deny.  It  is  a  question  of  theological  phrenology, 
on  which  I  am  not  competent  to  pronounce  ;  and  if 
I  have  seized  upon  the  word  for  the  purposes  of  my 
argument,  it  is  with  no  desire  to  confound  any  dis- 
tinction wliicli  ought  to  be  jjreserved,  but  because 
there  is  no  other  term  whicli  so  pointedly  expresses 


342  A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 

that  Divine  element  in  the  formation  of  beliefs  on 
which  it  was  my  business  to  lay  stress.  This,  if  my 
theory  be  true,  does,  after  all,  exist,  howsoever  it 
may  be  described,  to  the  full  extent  which  I  have 
indicated  ;  and  though  the  beliefs  which  it  assists  in 
producing  differ  infinitely  from  one  another  in  their 
nearness  to  absolute  truth,  the  fact  is  not  disguised, 
nor  the  honour  due  to  the  most  spiritually  perfect 
utterances  in  aught  imperilled,  by  recognising  in 
all  some  marks  of  Divine  intervention. 

But,  in  the  second  place,  it  may  be  objected  that 
inspiration  thus  broadly  conceived  is  incapable  of 
providing  mankind  with  any  satisfactory  criterion  of 
religious  truth.  Since  its  co-operation  can  be  traced 
in  so  much  that  is  imperfect,  the  mere  fact  of  its 
co-operation  cannot  in  any  particular  case  be  a  pro- 
tection even  against  gross  error.  If,  therefore,  we 
seek  in  it  not  merely  a  Divinely  ordered  cause  of 
belief,  but  also  a  Divinely  ordered  ground  for  believ- 
ing, there  must  be  some  means  of  marking  off  those 
examples  of  its  operation  which  rightfully  command 
our  full  intellectual  allegiance,  from  those  which  are 
no  more  than  evidences  of  an  influence  towards  the 
truth  working  out  its  purpose  slowly  through  the 
ages. 

This  is  beyond  dispute.  Nothing  that  I  have 
said  about  inspiration  in  general  as  a  source  of  belief 
affects  in  any  way  the  character  of  certain  instances 
of  inspiration  as  an  authority  for  belief.  Nor  was 
it  intended  to  do  so ;    for  the  problem,  or  group  of 


A    PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION  343 

problems,  which  would  thus  have  been  raised  is 
altogether  beside  the  main  course  of  ray  argument. 
They  belong,  not  to  an  Introduction  to  Theology, 
but  to  theology  itself.  Whether  there  is  an  authority 
in  religious  matters  of  a  kind  altogether  without 
parallel  in  scientific  or  ethical  matters;  what,  if  it  ex- 
ists, is  its  character,  and  whence  come  its  claims  to 
our  obedience,  are  questions  on  which  theologians 
have  differed,  and  still  differ,  and  which  it  is  quite 
beyond  my  province  to  decide.  For  the  subject  of 
this  Essay  is  the  'foundations  of  belief,*  and,  as  I 
have  already  indicated,^  the  kind  of  authority  con- 
templated by  theologians  is  never  '  fundamental,'  in 
the  sense  in  which  that  word  is  here  used.  The 
deliverances  of  no  organisation,  of  no  individual,  of 
no  record,  can  lie  at  the  roots  of  belief  as  reason, 
whatever  they  may  do  as  cause.  It  is  always  possi- 
ble to  ask  whence  these  claimants  to  authority  derive 
their  credentials,  what  titles  the  oraranisation  or  the 
individual  possesses  to  our  obedience,  whether  the 
records  are  authentic,  and  what  is  their  precise  im- 
port. And  the  mere  fact  that  such  questions  may 
be  put,  and  that  they  can  neither  be  thrust  aside  as 
irrelevant  nor  be  answered  without  elaborate  critical 
and  historical  discussion,  shows  clearly  enough  that 
we  have  no  business  with  them  here. 

'  See  ante,  chapter  on  Aulhority  and  Reason. 


344  A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 


III 


But  although  it  is  evidently  beyond  the  scope  of 
this  work  to  enter  upon  even  an  elementary  discus- 
sion of  theological  method,  it  seems  right  that  I 
should  endeavour,  in  strict  continuation  of  the  argu- 
ment of  this  chapter,  to  say  something  on  the  source 
from  which,  according  to  Christianity,  any  religious 
authority  whatever  must  ultimately  derive  its  ju- 
risdiction. What  I  have  so  far  tried  to  establish  is 
this — that  the  great  body  of  our  beliefs,  scientific, 
ethical,  ccsthetic,  theological,  form  a  more  coherent 
and  satisfactory  whole  if  we  consider  them  in  a 
Theistic  setting,  than  if  we  consider  them  in  a  Nat- 
uralistic one.  The  further  question,  therefore, 
inevitably  suggests  itself.  Whether  we  can  carry  the 
process  a  step  further,  and  say  that  they  are  more 
coherent  and  satisfactory  if  considered  in  a  Chris- 
tian setting  than  in  a  merely  Theistic  one? 

The  answer  often  given  is  in  the  negative.  It  is 
always  assumed  by  those  who  do  not  accept  the 
doctrine  of  the  Incarnation,  and  it  is  not  uncommonly 
conceded  by  those  who  do,  that  it  constitutes  an  ad- 
ditional burden  upon  faith,  a  new  stumbling-block 
to  reason.  And  many  who  are  prepared  to  accom- 
modate their  beliefs  to  the  requirements  of  (so-called) 
'  Natural  Religion,'  shrink  from  the  difficulties  and 
perplexities  in  which  this  central  mystery  of  Revealed 
Religion  threatens  to  involve  them.     But  what  are 


A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION  345 

these  difficulties?  Clearly  they  are  not  scientific. 
We  are  here  altogether  outside  the  region  where 
scientific  ideas  possess  any  worth,  or  scientific  cate- 
gories claim  any  authority.  It  may  be  a  realm  of 
shadows,  of  empty  dreams,  and  vain  speculations. 
But  whether  it  be  this,  or  whether  it  be  the  abiding- 
place  of  the  highest  Reality,  it  evidently  must  be 
explored  by  methods  other  than  those  provided  for 
us  by  the  accepted  canons  of  experimental  research. 
Even  when  we  are  endeavouring  to  comprehend  the 
relation  of  our  own  finite  personalities  to  the  material 
environment  with  which  they  are  so  intimately  con- 
nected, we  find,  as  we  have  seen,  that  all  familiar 
modes  of  explanation  break  down  and  become  mean- 
ingless. Yet  we  certainly  exist,  and  presumably  we 
have  bodies.  If,  then,  we  cannot  devise  formulce 
which  shall  elucidate  the  familiar  mystery  of  our 
daily  existence,  we  need  neither  be  surprised  nor 
embarrassed  if  the  unique  mystery  of  the  Christian 
faith  refuses  to  lend  itself  to  inductive  treatment. 

But  though  the  very  uniqueness  of  the  doctrine 
places  it  beyond  the  ordinary  range  of  scientific 
criticism,  the  same  cannot  be  said  for  the  historical 
evidence  on  which,  in  part  at  least,  it  rests.  Here, 
it  will  perhaps  be  urged,  wc  are  on  solid  and  familiar 
ground.  We  have  only  got  to  ignore  the  arbitrary 
distinction  between  'sacred'  and  'secular,'  and  apply 
the  well-understood  methods  of  historic  criticism  to 
a  particular  set  of  ancient  records,  in  order  to  extract 
from  them  all  that  is  necessary  to  satisfy  our  curi- 


346  A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 

osity.  If  they  break  down  under  cross-examination, 
we  need  trouble  ourselves  no  further  about  the 
metaphysical  dogmas  to  which  they  point.  No  im- 
munity or  privilege  claimed  for  the  subject-matter 
of  belief  can  extend  to  the  merely  human  evidence 
adduced  in  its  support;  and  as  in  the  last  resort. the 
historical  element  in  Christianity  does  evidently  rest 
on  human  testimony,  nothing  can  be  simpler  than  to 
subject  this  to  the  usual  scientific  tests,  and  accept 
with  what  equanimity  we  may  any  results  which 
they  elicit. 

But,  in  truth,  the  question  is  not  so  simple  as 
those  who  make  use  of  arguments  like  these  would 
have  us  suppose.  '  Historic  method  *  has  its  limita- 
tions. It  is  self-sufificicnt  only  within  an  area  which 
is,  indeed,  tolerably  extensive,  but  which  does  not 
embrace  the  universe.  For,  without  taking  any  very 
deep  plunge  into  the  philosophy  of  historical  criti- 
cism, we  may  easily  perceive  that  our  judgment  as 
to  the  truth  or  falsity  of  any  particular  historic  state- 
ment depends,  partly  on  our  estimate  of  the  writer's 
trustworthiness,  partly  on  our  estimate  of  his  means 
of  information,  partly  on  our  estimate  of  the  intrin- 
sic probability  of  the  facts  to  which  he  testifies.  But 
these  things  are  not  '  independent  variables,'  to  be 
measured  separately  before  their  results  are  balanced 
and  summed  up.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  manifest 
that,  in  many  cases,  our  opinions  on  the  trustworthi- 
ness and  competence  of  the  witnesses  is  modified  by 
oar  opinion  as  to    the    inherent  likelihood  of  what 


A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION  34/ 

they  tell  us ;  and  that  our  opinion  as  to  the  inherent 
likelihood  of  what  they  tell  us  may  depend  on 
considerations  with  respect  to  which  no  historical 
method  is  able  to  give  us  any  conclusive  informa- 
tion. In  most  cases,  no  doubt,  these  questions  of 
antecedent  probability  have  to  be  themselves  de- 
cided solely,  or  mainly,  on  historic  grounds,  and,  fail- 
ing anything  more  scientific,  by  a  kind  of  historic 
instinct.  But  other  cases  there  are,  though  they  be 
rare,  to  whose  consideration  we  must  bring  larger 
principles,  drawn  from  a  wider  theory  of  the  world  ; 
and  among  these  should  be  counted  as  first,  both  in 
speculative  interest  and  in  ethical  importance,  the 
early  records  of  Christianity. 

That  this  has  been  done,  and,  from  their  own 
point  of  view,  quite  rightly  done,  by  various  de- 
structive schools  of  New  Testament  criticism,  every- 
one is  aware.  Starting  from  a  philosophy  which  for- 
bade them  to  accept  much  of  the  substance  of  the 
Gospel  narrative,  they  very  properly  set  to  work  to 
devise  a  variety  of  hypotheses  which  would  account 
for  the  fact  that  the  narrative,  with  all  its  peculiari- 
ties, was  nevertheless  there.  Of  these  hypotheses 
there  are  many,  and  some  of  them  have  occasioned 
an  admirable  display  of  erudite  ingenuity,  fruitful 
of  instruction  from  every  point  of  view,  and  for  all 
time.  But  it  is  a  great,  though  common,  error  to 
describe  these  learned  efforts  as  examples  of  the  un- 
biassed application  of  historic  methods  to  historic 
documents.     It  would  be   more  correct  to  saj  that 


348  A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 

they  are  endeavours,  by  the  unstinted  employment 
of  an  elabolate  critical  apparatus,  to  force  the  testi- 
mony of  existing  records  into  conformity  with  the- 
ories on  the  truth  or  falsity  of  which  it  is  for  philos- 
ophy, not  history,  to  pronounce.  What  view  I  take  of 
the  particular  philosophy  to  which  these  critics  make 
appeal  the  reader  already  knows  ;  but  our  immediate 
concern  is  not  again  to  discuss  the  presuppositions 
with  which  other  people  have  approached  the  con- 
sideration of  New  Testament  history,  but  to  arrive  at 
some  conclusion  about  our  own. 

How,  then,  ought  the  general  theory  of  things  at 
which  we  have  arrived  to  affect  our  estimate  of  the 
antecedent  probability  of  the  Christian  views  of 
Christ?  Or,  if  such  a  phrase  as  'antecedent  proba- 
bility '  be  thought  to  suggest  a  much  greater  nicety 
of  calculation  than  is  at  all  possible  in  a  case  like 
this,  in  what  temper  of  mind,  in  what  mood  of  ex- 
pectation, ought  our  provisional  philosophy  to  in- 
duce us  to  consider  the  extant  historic  evidence  for 
the  Christian  story?  The  reply  must,  I  think,  de- 
pend, as  I  shall  show  in  a  moment,  upon  the  view 
we  take  of  the  ethical  import  of  Christianity  ;  while 
its  ethical  import,  again,  must  depend  on  the  degree 
to  which  it  ministers  to  our  ethical  needs. 


A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION  349 


IV 

Now  ethical  needs,  important  though  they  are, 
occupy  no  great  space,  as  a  rule,  in  the  works  of 
ethical  writers.  I  do  not  say  this  by  way  of  criti- 
cism ;  for  I  grant  that  any  examination  into  these 
needs  would  have  only  an  indirect  bearing  on  the 
essential  subject-matter  of  ethical  philosophy,  since 
no  inquiry  into  their  nature,  history,  or  value  would 
help  either  to  establish  the  fundamental  principles 
of  a  moral  code  or  to  elaborate  its  details.  But, 
after  all,  as  I  have  said  before,  an  assortment  of 
'categorical  imperatives,'  however  authoritative  and 
complete,  supplies  but  a  meagre  outfit  wherewith  to 
meet  the  storms  and  stresses  of  actual  experience. 
If  we  are  to  possess  a  practical  system,  which  shall 
not  merely  tell  men  what  they  ought  to  do,  but 
assist  them  to  do  it ;  still  more,  if  we  are  to  regard 
the  spiritual  quality  of  the  soul  as  possessing  an  in- 
trinsic value  not  to  be  wholly  measured  b}'  the  ex- 
ternal actions  to  which  it  gives  rise,  much  more 
than  this  will  be  required.  It  will  not  only  be 
necessary  to  claim  the  assistance  of  those  ethical 
aspirations  and  ideals  which  are  not  less  effectual 
lor  their  purpose  though  nothing  corresponding  to 
them  should  exist,  but  it  will  also  be  necessary,  if 
it  be  possible,  to  meet  those  ethical  needs  which 
must  work  more  harm  tiian  good  unless  we  can 
sustain   the    belief  that  there    is   somewhere  to    be 


350  A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 

found  a  Reality  wherein  they  can  find  their  satis- 
faction. 

These  are  facts  of  moral  psychology  which  thus 
broadly  stated,  nobody,  I  think,  will  be  disposed  to 
dispute,  although  the  widest  differences  of  opinion 
may  and  do  prevail  as  to  the  character,  number  and 
relative  importance  of  the  ethical  needs  thus  called 
into  existence  by  ethical  commands.  It  is,  further, 
certain,  though  more  difficulty  may  be  felt  in  ad- 
mitting it,  that  these  needs  can  be  satisfied  in  many 
cases  but  imperfectly,  in  some  cases  not  at  all,  with- 
out the  aid  of  theology  and  of  theological  sanctions. 
One  commonly  recognised  ethical  need,  for  exam- 
ple, is  for  harmony  between  the  interests  of  the  in- 
dividual and  those  of  the  community.  In  a  rude 
and  limited  fashion,  and  for  a  very  narrow  circle  of 
ethical  commands,  this  is  deliberately  provided  by 
the  prison  and  the  scaffold,  the  whole  machinery  of 
the  criminal  law.  It  is  provided,  with  less  deHbera- 
tion,  but  with  greater  delicacy  of  adjustment,  and 
over  a  wider  area  of  duty,  by  the  operation  of  pub- 
lic opinion.  But  it  can  be  provided,  with  any  ap- 
proach to  theoretical  perfection,  only  by  a  future 
life,  such  as  that  which  is  assumed  in  more  than  one 
system  of  religious  belief. 

Now  the  question  is  at  once  suggested  by  cases 
of  this  kind  whether,  and,  if  so,  under  what  limita- 
tions,  we  can  argue  from  the  existence  of  an  ethical 
need  to  the  reality  of  the  conditions  under  which 
alone  it  would  be  satisfied.     Can  we,  for  example. 


A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION  35 1 

argue  from  the  need  for  some  complete  correspond- 
ence between  virtue  and  felicity,  to  the  reality  of 
another  world  than  this,  where  such  a  correspond- 
ence will  be  completely  effected  ?  A  great  ethical 
philosopher  has,  in  substance,  asserted  that  we  can. 
He  held  that  the  reality  of  the  Moral  Law  implied 
the  reality  of  a  sphere  where  it  could  for  ever  be 
obeyed,  under  conditions  satisfactory  to  the  '  Practi- 
cal Reason';  and  it  was  thus  that  he  found  a  place 
in  his  system  for  Freedom,  for  Immortality,  and  for 
God.  The  metaphysical  machinery,  indeed,  by  which 
Kant  endeavoured  to  secure  these  results  is  of  a  kind 
which  we  cannot  employ.  But  we  may  well  ask 
whether  somewhat  similar  inferences  are  not  fitting 
portions  of  the  provisional  philosophy  I  am  endeav- 
ouring to  recommend ;  and,  in  particular,  whether 
they  do  not  harmonise  with  the  train  of  thought  we 
have  been  pursuing  in  the  course  of  this  Chapter. 
If  the  reality  of  scientific  and  of  ethical  knowledge 
forces  us  to  assume  the  existence  of  a  rational  and 
moral  Deity,  by  whose  preferential  assistance  they 
have  gradually  come  into  existence,  must  we  not 
suppose  that  the  Power  which  has  thus  produced 
in  man  the  knowledge  of  right  and  wrong,  and 
has  added  to  it  the  faculty  of  creating  ethical  ideals, 
must  have  provided  some  satisfaction  for  the  ethical 
needs  which  the  historical  develoj^ment  of  the  spirit- 
ual life  has  gradually  called  into  existence? 

Manifestly   the  argument   in    this    shape  is   one 
which  must  be  used  with  caution.    To  reason  purely 


352  A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 

a  priori  from  our  general  notions  concerning  the 
working  of  Divine  Providence  to  the  reality  of 
particular  historic  events  in  time,  or  to  the  preva- 
lence of  particular  conditions  of  existence  through 
eternity,  would  imply  a  knowledge  of  Divine  mat- 
ters which  we  certainly  do  not  possess,  and  which, 
our  faculties  remaining  what  they  are,  a  revelation 
Irom  Heaven  could  not,  I  suppose,  communicate  to 
us.  My  contention,  at  all  events,  is  of  a  much 
humbler  kind.  I  confine  myself  to  asking  whether, 
in  a  universe  which,  by  hypothesis,  is  under  moral 
governance,  there  is  not  a  presumption  in  favour  of 
facts  or  events  which  minister,  if  true,  to  our  highest 
moral  demands?  and  whether  such  a  presumption, 
if  it  exists,  is  not  sufficient,  and  more  than  sufhcient, 
to  neutralise  the  counter- presumption  which  has 
uncritically  governed  so  much  of  the  criticism  di- 
rected in  recent  times  against  the  historic  claims 
of  Christianity  ?  For  my  own  part,  I  cannot  doubt 
that  both  these  questions  should  be  answered  in 
the  affirmative  ;  and  if  the  reader  will  consider  the 
variety  of  ways  by  which  Christianity  is,  in  fact, 
fitted  effectually  to  minister  to  our  ethical  needs,  I 
find  it  hard  to  believe  that  he  will  arrive  at  any  dif- 
ferent conclusion. 


A   PROVISIONAL    UNIFICATION  353 


I  need  not  say  that  no  complete  treatment  of 
this  question  is  contemplated  here.  Any  adequate 
survey  of  the  relation  in  which  Christianity  stands 
to  the  moral  needs  of  man  would  lead  us  into  the 
very  heart  of  theology,  and  would  require  us  to 
consider  topics  altogether  unsuited  to  these  con- 
troversial pages.  Yet  it  may,  perhaps,  be  found 
possible  to  illustrate  my  meaning  without  penetrat- 
ing far  into  territories  usually  occupied  by  theo- 
logians; while,  at  the  same  time,  the  examples  of 
which  I  shall  make  use  may  serve  to  show  that, 
among  the  needs  ministered  to  by  Christianity, 
are  some  which  increase  rather  than  diminish 
with  the  growth  of  knowledge  and  the  progress 
of  science ;  and  that  this  Religion  is  therefore 
no  mere  reform,  appropriate  only  to  a  vanished 
epoch  in  the  history  of  culture  and  civilisation, 
but  a  development  of  theism  now  more  necessary 
to  us  than  ever. 

I  am  aware,  of  course,  that  this  may  seem  in 
strange  discord  with  opinions  very  commonly  held. 
There  are  many  persons  who  suppose  that,  in  addi- 
tion to  any  metaphysical  or  scientific  objections  to 
Christian  doctrines,  there  has  arisen  a  legitimate 
feeling  of  intellectual  repulsion  to  them,  directly 
due  to  our  more  extended  perception  of  the  magni- 
23 


354  A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 

tilde  and  complexity  of  the  material  world.  The 
discovery  of  Copernicus,  it  has  been  said,  is  the 
death-blow  to  Christianity:  in  other  words,  the 
recognition  by  the  human  race  of  the  insignificant 
part  which  they  and  their  planet  play  in  the  cosmic 
drama  renders  the  Incarnation,  as  it  were,  intrinsi- 
cally incredible.  This  is  not  a  question  of  logic,  or 
science,  or  history.  No  criticism  of  documents,  no 
haggling  over  '  natural '  or  *  supernatural,'  either 
creates  the  difficulty  or  is  able  to  solve  it.  For  it 
arises  out  of  what  I  may  almost  call  an  aesthetic 
sense  of  disproportion.  '  What  is  man,  that  Thou 
art  mindful  of  him ;  and  the  son  of  man,  that  Thou 
visitest  him  ? '  is  a  question  charged  by  science 
with  a  weight  of  meaning  far  beyond  what  it  could 
have  borne  for  the  poet  whose  lips  first  uttered 
it.  And  those  whose  studies  bring  perpetually  to 
their  remembrance  the  immensity  of  this  material 
world,  who  know  how  brief  and  how  utterly  im- 
perceptible is  the  impress  made  by  organic  life  in 
general,  and  by  human  life  in  particular,  upon  the 
mighty  forces  which  surround  them,  find  it  hard 
to  believe  that  on  so  small  an  occasion  this  petty 
satellite  of  no  very  important  sun  has  been  chosen 
as  the  theatre  of  an  event  so  solitary  and  so  stu- 
pendous. 

Reflection,  indeed,  shows  that  those  who  thus 
argue  have  manifestly  permitted  their  thoughts 
about  God  to  be  controlled  by  a  singular  theory  of 
His  relations  to  man  and  to  the  world,  based  on  an 


A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION  355 

unbalanced  consideration  of  the  vastness  of  Nature. 
They  have  conceived  Him  as  moved  by  the  mass  of 
His  own  works;  as  lost  in  spaces  of  His  own  crea- 
tion. Consciously  or  unconsciously,  they  have  fallen 
into  the  absurdity  of  supposing  that  He  considers 
His  creatures,  as  it  were,  with  the  eyes  of  a  con- 
tractor or  a  politician ;  that  He  measures  their 
value  according  to  their  physical  or  intellectual  im- 
portance ;  and  that  He  sets  store  by  the  number 
of  square  miles  they  inhabit  or  the  foot-pounds  of 
energy  they  are  capable  of  developing.  In  truth, 
the  inference  they  should  have  drawn  is  of  precise- 
ly the  opposite  kind.  The  very  sense  of  the  place 
occupied  in  the  material  universe  by  man  the  in- 
telligent animal,  creates  in  man  the  moral  being  a 
new  need  for  Christianity,  which,  before  science 
measured  out  the  heavens  for  us,  can  hardly  be 
said  to  have  existed.  Metaphysically  speaking,  our 
opinions  on  the  magnitude  and  complexity  of  the 
natural  world  should,  indeed,  have  no  bearing  on 
our  conception  of  God's  relation,  either  to  us  or 
to  it.  Though  we  supposed  the  sun  to  have  been 
created  some  six  thousand  years  ago,  and  to  be 
'  about  the  size  of  the  Peloponnesus,'  yet  the  funda- 
mental problems  concerning  time  and  space,  matter 
and  spirit,  God  and  man,  would  not  on  that  account 
have  to  be  formally  restated.  But  then,  we  are  not 
creatures  of  pure  reason ;  and  those  who  desire  the 
assurance  of  an  intimate  and  effectual  relation  with 
the  Divine  life,  and  who  look  to  this  for  strength 


356  A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 

and  consolation,  find  that  the  progress  of  scientific 
knowledge  makes  it  more  and  more  difficult  to  ob- 
tain it  by  the  aid  of  any  merely  speculative  theism. 
The  feeling  of  trusting  dependence  which  was  easy 
for  the  primitive  tribes,  who  regarded  themselves 
as  their  God's  peculiar  charge,  and  supposed  Him 
in  some  special  sense  to  dwell  among  them,  is  not 
easy  for  us ;  nor  does  it  tend  to  become  easier.  We 
can  no  longer  share  their  naive  anthropomorphism. 
We  search  out  God  with  eyes  grown  old  in  study- 
ing Nature,  with  minds  fatigued  by  centuries  of 
metaphysic,  and  imaginations  glutted  with  material 
infinities.  It  is  in  vain  that  we  describe  Him  as  im- 
manent in  creation,  and  refuse  to  reduce  Him  to  an 
abstraction,  be  it  deistic  or  be  it  pantheistic.  The 
overwhelming  force  and  regularity  of  the  great  nat- 
ural movements  dull  the  sharp  impression  of  an 
ever-present  Personality  deeply  concerned  in  our 
spiritual  well-being.  He  is  hidden,  not  revealed,  in 
the  multitude  of  phenomena,  and  as  our  knowledge 
of  phenomena  increases.  He  retreats  out  of  ail  real- 
ised connection  with  us  farther  and  yet  farther  into 
the  illimitable  unknown. 

Then  it  is  that,  through  the  aid  of  Christian  doc- 
trine, we  are  saved  from  the  distorting  influences 
of  our  own  discoveries.  The  Incarnation  throws 
the  whole  scheme  of  things,  as  we  are  too  easily  apt 
to  represent  it  to  ourselves,  into  a  different  and  far 
truer  proportion.  It  abruptly  changes  the  vv^hole 
scale  on  which  we  might  be  disposed  to  measure 


A    PROVISIONAL    UNIFICATION  35/ 

the  magnitudes  of  the  universe.  What  we  should 
otherwise  think  great,  we  now  perceive  to  be  rela- 
tively small.  What  we  should  otherwise  think 
trifling,  we  now  know  to  be  immeasurably  impor- 
tant. And  the  change  is  not  only  morally  needed, 
but  is  philosophically  justified.  Specidation  by  it- 
self should  be  sufficient  to  convince  us  that,  in  the 
sight  of  a  righteous  God,  material  grandeur  and 
moral  excellencies  are  incommensurable  quantities  ; 
and  that  an  infinite  accumulation  of  the  one  cannot 
compensate  for  the  smallest  diminution  of  the  other. 
Yet  I  know  not  whether,  as  a  theistic  speculation, 
this  truth  could  effectually  maintain  itself  against 
the  brute  pressure  of  external  Nature.  In  the  world 
looked  at  by  the  light  of  simple  theism,  the  evi- 
dences of  God's  material  power  lie  about  us  on 
every  side,  daily  added  to  by  science,  universal, 
overwhelminof.  The  evidences  of  His  moral  inter- 
est  have  to  be  anxiously  extracted,  grain  by  grain, 
through  the  speculative  analysis  of  our  moral  nature. 
Mankind,  however,  are  not  given  to  speculative 
analysis;  and  if  it  be  desirable  that  they  should 
be  enabled  to  obtain  an  imaginative  grasp  of  this 
great  truth  ;  if  they  need  to  have  brought  home  to 
them  that,  in  the  sight  of  God,  the  stability  of  the 
heavens  is  of  less  importance  than  the  moral  growth 
of  a  liuiiiaii  spirit,  I  know  not  how  this  end  could  be 
more  completely  attained  than  by  the  Christian  doc- 
trine of  the  Incarnation. 

A  somewhat  similar  train  of  thought  is  suggested 


358  A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 

by  the  progress  of  one  particular  branch  of  scien- 
tific investigation.  Mankind  can  never  have  been 
ignorant  of  the  dependence  of  mind  on  body.  The 
feebleness  of  infancy,  the  decay  of  age,  the  effects 
of  sickness,  fatigue,  and  pain,  are  facts  too  obvious 
and  too  insistent  ever  to  have  passed  unnoticed. 
But  the  movement  of  discovery  has  prodigiously 
emphasised  our  sense  of  dependence  on  matter.  We 
now  know  that  it  is  no  loose  or  variable  connection 
which  ties  mind  to  body.  There  may,  indeed,  be 
neural  changes  which  do  not  issue  in  consciousness ; 
but  there  is  no  consciousness,  so  far  as  accepted 
observations  and  experiments  can  tell  us,  which  is 
not  associated  with  neural  changes.  Looked  at, 
therefore,  from  the  outside,  from  the  point  of  view 
necessarily  adopted  by  the  biologist,  the  spiritual 
life  seems,  as  it  were,  but  an  intermittent  phospho- 
rescence accompanying  the  cerebral  changes  in 
certain  highly  organised  mammals.  And  science, 
through  countless  channels,  with  irresistible  force 
drives  home  to  each  one  of  us  the  lesson  that  we  are 
severally  bound  over  in  perpetual  servitude  to  a 
body  for  whose  existence  and  qualities  we  have  no 
responsibility  whatever. 

As  the  reader  is  well  aware,  views  like  these 
will  not  stand  critical  examination.  Of  all  creeds, 
materialism  is  the  one  which,  looked  at  from  the 
inside — from  the  point  of  view  of  knowledge  and 
the  knowing  Self— is  least  capable  of  being  philo- 
sophically   defended,   or    even    coherently   stated. 


A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION  359 

Nevertheless,  the  burden  of  the  body  is  not,  in 
practice,  to  be  disposed  of  by  any  mere  process  of 
critical  analysis.  From  birth  to  death,  without 
pause  or  respite,  it  encumbers  us  on  our  path.  We 
can  never  disentangle  ourselves  from  its  meshes, 
nor  divide  with  it  the  responsibility  for  our  joint 
performances.  Conscience  may  tell  us  that  we 
oiigJit  to  control  it,  and  that  we  can.  But  science, 
hinting  that,  after  all,  we  are  but  its  product  and  its 
plaything,  receives  ominous  support  from  our  ex- 
periences of  mankind.  Philosophy  may  assure  us 
that  the  account  of  body  and  mind  given  by  mate- 
rialism is  neither  consistent  nor  intelligible.  Yet 
body  remains  the  most  fundamental  and  all-pervad- 
ing fact  with  which  mind  has  got  to  deal,  the  one 
from  which  it  can  least  easily  shake  itself  free,  the 
one  that  most  complacently  lends  itself  to  every 
theory  destructive  of  high  endeavour. 

Now,  what  is  wanted  here  is  not  abstract  specu- 
lation or  negative  dialectic.  These,  indeed,  may 
lend  us  their  aid,  but  they  are  not  very  powerful 
allies  in  this  particular  species  of  warfare.  They 
can  assure  us,  with  a  well-grounded  confidence,  that 
materialism  is  wnjng,  but  they  have  (as  I  think) 
nothing  satisfactory  to  put  in  its  place,  and  cannot 
pretend  to  any  theoretic  explanation  which  shall 
cover  all  the  facts.  What  we  need,  then,  is  some- 
thing that  shall  appeal  to  men  of  flesh  and  blood, 
struggling  with  the  temptations  and  discourage- 
ments which   flesh  and  blood  is  heir  to  :  confused 


360  A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 

and  baffled  by  theories  of  heredity :  sure  that  the 
physiological  view  represents  at  least  one  aspect  of 
the  truth ;  not  sure  how  any  larger  and  more  con- 
soling truth  can  be  welded  on  to  it;  yet  swayed 
towards  the  materialist  side  less,  it  may  be,  by 
materialist  reasoning  than  by  the  inner  confirma- 
tion which  a  humiliating  experience  gives  them  of 
their  own  subjection  to  the  body. 

What  support  does  the  belief  in  a  Deity  inef- 
fably remote  from  all  human  conditions  bring  to 
men  thus  hesitating  whether  they  are  to  count 
themselves  as  beasts  that  perish,  or  among  the  Sons 
of  God  ?  What  bridge  can  be  found  to  span  the 
immeasurable  gulf  which  separates  Infinite  Spirit 
from  creatures  who  seem  little  more  than  physi- 
ological accidents?  What  faith  is  there,  other  than 
the  Incarnation,  which  will  enable  us  to  realise  that, 
however  far  apart,  they  are  not  hopelessly  divided  ? 
The  intellectual  perplexities  which  haunt  us  in 
that  dim  region  where  mind  and  matter  meet  may 
not  be  thus  allayed.  But  they  who  think  with  me 
that,  though  it  is  a  hard  thing  for  us  to  believe  that 
we  are  made  in  the  likeness  of  God,  it  is  yet  a  very 
necessary  thing,  will  not  be  anxious  to  deny  that  an 
effectual  trust  in  this  great  truth,  a  full  satisfaction 
of  this  ethical  need,  are  among  the  natural  fruits  of 
a  Christian  theory  of  the  world. 

One  more  topic  there  is,  of  the  same  family  as 
those  with  which  we  have  just  been  dealing,  to 
which,  before  concluding,  I  must  briefly  direct  the 


A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION  36 1 

reader's  attention.  I  have  already  said  something 
about  what  is  known  as  the  '  problem  of  evil,'  and 
the  immemorial  difficulty  which  it  throws  in  the  way 
of  a  completely  coherent  theory  of  the  world  on  a 
religious  or  moral  basis.  I  do  not  suggest  now 
that  the  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation  supplies  any 
philosophic  solution  of  this  difficulty.  I  content 
myself  with  pointing  out  that  the  difficulty  is  much 
less  oppressive  under  the  Christian  than  under  any 
simpler  form  of  Theism ;  and  that  though  it  may  re- 
tain undiminished  whatever  speculative  force  it  pos- 
sesses, its  moral  grip  is  loosened,  and  it  no  longer 
parches  up  the  springs  of  spiritual  hope  or  crushes 
moral  aspiration. 

For  where  precisely  does  the  difficulty  lie  ?  It 
lies  in  the  belief  that  an  all-powerful  Deity  has 
chosen  out  of  an  infinite,  or  at  least  an  unknown, 
number  of  possibilities  to  create  a  world  in  which 
pain  is  a  prominent,  and  apparently  an  ineradicable, 
element.  His  action  on  this  view  is,  so  to  speak, 
gratuitous.  He  might  have  done  otherwise  ;  He 
has  done  thus.  He  might  have  created  sentient 
beings  capable  of  nothing  but  happiness  ;  He  has  in 
fact  created  them  prone  to  misery,  and  subject  by 
their  very  constitution  and  circumstances  to  extreme 
possibilities  of  physical  pain  and  mental  affliction. 
How  can  One  of  Whom  this  can  be  said  excite  our 
love?  How  can  He  claim  our  obedience?  How 
can  He  be  a  fitting  object  of  praise,  reverence,  and 
worship?     So  runs  the  familiar  argument,  accepted 


362  A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 

by  some  as  a  permanent  element  in  their  melancholy 
philosophy  ;  wrung  from  others  as  a  cry  of  anguish 
under  the  sudden  stroke  of  bitter  experience. 

This  reasoning  is  in  essence  an  explication  of 
what  is  supposed  to  be  involved  in  the  attribute  of 
Omnipotence ;  and  the  sting  of  its  conclusion  lies  in 
the  inferred  indifference  of  God  to  the  sufferings  of 
His  creatures.  There  are,  therefore,  two  points  at 
which  it  may  be  assailed.  We  may  argue,  in  the 
first  place,  that  in  dealing  with  subjects  so  far  above 
our  reach,  it  is  in  general  the  height  of  philosophic 
temerity  to  squeeze  out  of  every  predicate  the  last 
significant  drop  it  can  apparently  be  forced  to  yield  ; 
or  drive  all  the  arguments  it  suggests  to  their  ex- 
treme logical  conclusions.  And,  in  particular,  it 
may  be  urged  that  it  is  erroneous,  perhaps  even 
unmeaning,  to  say  that  the  universality  of  Omnip- 
otence includes  the  power  to  do  that  which  is  ir- 
rational;  and  that,  without  knowing  the  Whole,  we 
cannot  say  of  any  part  whether  it  is  rational  or 
not. 

These  are  metaphysical  considerations  which,  so 
long  as  they  are  used  critically,  and  not  dogmatically, 
negatively,  not  positively,  seem  to  me  to  have  force. 
But  there  is  a  second  line  of  attack,  on  which  it  is 
more  my  business  to  insist.  I  have  already  pointed 
out  that  ethics  cannot  permanently  flourish  side  by 
side  with  a  creed  which  represents  God  as  indifferent 
to  pain  and  sin  ;  so  that,  if  our  provisional  philoso- 
phy is  to  include  morality  within    its  circuit  (and 


A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION  363 

what  harmony  of  knowledge  would  that  be  which 
did  not  ?),  the  conclusions  which  apparently  follow 
from  the  co-existence  of  Omnipotence  and  of  Evil 
are  not  to  be  accepted.  Yet  this  speculative  reply 
is,  after  all,  but  a  fair-weather  argument ;  too  abstract 
easily  to  move  mankind  at  large,  too  frail  for  the  sup- 
port, even  of  a  philosopher,  in  moments  of  extrem- 
ity. Of  what  use  is  it  to  those  who,  under  the  stress 
of  sorrow,  are  permitting  themselves  to  doubt  the 
goodness  of  God,  that  such  doubts  must  inevitably 
tend  to  wither  virtue  at  the  root  ?  No  such  conclu- 
sion will  frighten  them.  They  have  already  almost 
reached  it.  Of  what  worth,  they  cry,  is  virtue  in  a 
world  where  sufferings  like  theirs  fall  alike  on  the 
just  and  on  the  unjust?  For  themselves,  they  know 
only  that  they  are  solitary  and  abandoned  ;  victims 
of  a  Power  too  strong  for  them  to  control,  too  callous 
for  them  to  soften,  too  far  for  them  to  reach,  deaf  to 
supplication,  blind  to  pain.  Tell  them,  with  certain 
theologians,  that  their  misfortunes  are  explained  and 
justified  by  an  hereditary  taint ;  tell  them,  with  certain 
philosophers,  that,  could  they  understand  the  world 
in  its  completeness,  their  agony  would  show  itself 
an  element  necessary  to  the  harmony  of  the  Whole, 
and  tiiey  will  think  you  are  mocking  them.  What- 
ever be  the  worth  of  speculations  like  these,  it  is  not 
in  the  moments  when  they  are  most  required  that 
they  come  effectually  to  our  rescue.  What  is  needed 
is  such  a  living  faith  in  God's  relation  to  Man  as 
shall    leave    no    place   for  that   helpless  resentment 


364  A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 

against  the  appointed  Order  so  apt  to  i-ise  within  us 
at  the  sight  of  undeserved  pain.  And  this  faith  is 
possessed  by  those  who  vividly  realise  the  Christian 
form  of  Theism.  For  they  worship  One  who  is  no 
remote  contriver  of  a  universe  to  whose  ills  He  is 
indifferent.  If  they  suffer,  did  He  not  on  their 
account  suffer  also?  If  suffering  falls  not  always  on 
the  most  guilty,  was  He  not  innocent?  Shall  they 
cry  aloud  that  the  world  is  ill-designed  for  their 
convenience,  when  He  for  their  sakes  subjected 
Himself  to  its  conditions?  It  is  true  that  beliefs 
like  these  do  not  in  any  narrow  sense  resolve  our 
doubts  nor  provide  us  with  explanations.  But  they 
give  us  something  better  than  many  explanations. 
For  they  minister,  or  rather  the  Reality  behind  them 
ministers,  to  one  of  our  deepest  ethical  needs :  to  a 
need  which,  far  from  showing  signs  of  diminution, 
seems  to  grow  with  the  growth  of  civilisation,  and 
to  touch  us  ever  more  keenly  as  the  hardness  of  an 
earlier  time  dissolves  awa}^ 


Here,  then,  on  the  threshold  of  Christian  Theol- 
ogy, I  bring  my  task  to  a  conclusion.  I  feel,  on 
looking  back  over  the  completed  work,  even  more 
strongly  than  I  felt  during  its  progress,  how  hard 
was  the  task  I  have  undertaken,  and  how  far  beyond 
my  powers  successfully  to  accomplish.  For  I  have 
aimed  at  nothing  less  than  to  show,  within  a  reason- 


A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION  365 

able  compass  and  in  a  manner  to  be  understood  by 
all,  how,  in  face  of  the  complex  tendencies  which 
sway  this  strange  age  of  ours,  we  may  best  draw  to- 
gether our  beliefs  into  a  comprehensive  unity  which 
shall  possess  at  least  a  relative  and  provisional  sta- 
bility. In  so  bold  an  attempt  I  may  well  have  failed. 
Yet,  whatever  be  the  particular  weaknesses  and  de- 
fects which  mar  the  success  of  my  endeavours,  three 
or  four  broad  principles  emerge  from  the  discussion, 
the  essential  importance  of  which  I  find  it  impos- 
sible to  doubt,  whatever  errors  I  may  have  made 
in  their  application. 

1.  It  seems  beyond  question  that  any  system 
which,  with  our  present  knowledge  and,  it  may 
be,  our  existing  faculties,  we  are  able  to  construct 
must  suffer  from  obscurities,  from  defects  of  proof, 
and  from  incoherences.  Narrow  it  down  to  bare 
science — and  no  one  has  seriously  proposed  to  re- 
duce it  further — you  will  still  find  all  three,  and  in 
plenty. 

2.  No  unification  of  belief  of  the  slightest  the- 
oretical value  can  take  place  on  a  purely  scien- 
tific basis  —  on  a  basis,  I  mean,  of  induction  from 
particular  experiences,  whether  'external'  or  'inter- 
nal.' 

3.  No  philosophy  or  theory  of  knowledge  (epis- 
temology)  can  be  satisfactory  which  does  not  find 
room  within  it  for  the  quite  obvious,  but  not  suffi- 
ciently considered  fact  that,  so  far  as  empirical 
science  can  tell  us  anything  about  the  matter,  most 


366  A   PROVISIONAL   UNIFICATION 

of  the  proximate  causes  of  belief,  and  all  its  ultimate 
causes,  are  non-rational  in  their  character. 

4.  No  unification  of  beliefs  can  be  practically 
adequate  which  does  not  include  ethical  beliefs  as 
well  as  scientific  ones;  nor  which  refuses  to  count 
among  ethical  beliefs,  not  merely  those  which  have 
immediate  reference  to  moral  commands,  but  those 
also  which  make  possible  moral  sentiments,  ideals 
and  aspirations,  and  which  satisfy  our  ethical  needs. 
Any  system  which,  when  worked  out  to  its  legiti- 
mate issues,  fails  to  effect  this  object  can  afford  no 
permanent  habitation  for  the  spirit  of  man. 

To  enforce,  illustrate,  and  apply  these  principles 
has  been  the  main  object  of  the  preceding  pages. 
How  far  I  have  succeeded  in  showing  that  the  least 
incomplete  unification  open  to  us  must  include  the 
fundamental  elements  of  Theology,  and  of  Chris- 
tian Theology,  I  leave  it  for  others  to  deter- 
mine ;  repeating  only  the  conviction,  more  than 
once  expressed  in  the  body  of  this  Essay,  that  it  is 
not  explanations  which  survive,  but  the  things 
which  are  explained  ;  not  theories,  but  the  things 
about  which  we  theorise;  and  that,  therefore,  no 
failure  on  my  part  can  imperil  the  great  truths,  be 
they  religious,  ethical,  or  scientific,  whose  interde- 
pendence I  have  endeavoured  to  establish. 


THE  END  ,       ^/7''" 


lifi" 


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1^1 


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